


Restart

by Boomchick



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Apocalypse, Human Experimentation, Imprisonment, Laboratories, M/M, Rescue, Time Loop, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boomchick/pseuds/Boomchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every time the world ends, Sephiroth and Cloud meet. Every time, they try to decide what to change to make it end differently. Every time they fail. Is there anything that can keep a man from going insane?</p>
<p>Please check tags and warnings. Portions of fic will be graphic and dark. This is not a romance, and I don't want any of my beloved readers getting hurt. (Though honestly, if you're one of my readers, you are probably used to me being evil by now.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trying

"I'm not going back." Sephiroth said, his low voice the only sound in the empty space around him.

"We have to," Cloud replied, sighing as he watched the man's back. "You know that."

"It never changes," Sephiroth's voice was dull and listless—almost dead. "No matter now many times we play this same game."

"We have to keep trying," Cloud whispered. "We'll get it right eventually."

"I will never be strong enough," Sephiroth replied with a shake of his head. "And neither will you."

"It always changes, though," Cloud argued. "At least in little ways. Who knows, eventually one of those little ways has to change things for the better. It was closer last time, with the two of us closer to the same age..."

"I'm tired," Sephiroth replied blankly.

"We're not doing this for you," Cloud snapped back, frustrated by Sephiroth's emptiness. "You think I go back for myself? It's not for us."

"Then what is the use?" Sephiroth asked softly. "I can never save what is important to me. I never remember soon enough."

"I don't remember either," Cloud argued. "And it's gotten better since the first time for me. I get better every time."

"Then perhaps you are simply better than I," Sephiroth snarled, whirling on him with ferocity in his jade green eyes. "Because as many times as I live and die, I never save the people who are important to me."

"It's not like I succeed in everything either," Cloud said softly. "I've never been able to stop you from killing Aerith. From hurting Zack at Nibelheim. From anything at Nibelheim."

"As if it's your responsibility," Sephiroth muttered, rage fading in light of depression, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Maybe this time we'll get it right," Cloud offered softly.

"You really don't get it, do you," Sephiroth whispered. "Every time we go back, you get a different chance at a difficult childhood. I get tortured for eighteen years. Nothing changes that. There's nothing you or I can do to alter it. I don't want to anymore."

Cloud hesitated, and felt himself softening, almost against his will. He knew Hojo's labs. Every time he went back, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, he and Zack always ended up there. He bit his lip, watching the profile of the cold man he always met in this empty place at the end of everything—when once again the planet failed to defend itself against Jenova and did the only thing it had left to do—hit the reset button. He didn't know how it worked. He just knew that every time he ended up in this place, he'd lived his life again. He didn't know how far back the reset went, or whether anyone else was aware of it aside form himself and Sephiroth. He never remembered this empty place or their previous lives when he was reborn. He didn't have anyone else to ask.

"I'm tired of hurting," Sephiroth admitted, his voice strained and sad. "I'm tired of dying."

"I'm sorry," Cloud said softly. "I always try to make it painless."

"It never is," Sephiroth responded dryly—without sympathy or pity. Cloud didn't blame him for that.

"I'll try harder," he promised the man.

"You won't remember that," Sephiroth said blankly. "You won't remember any of this."

"We have to try, Sephiroth," he whispered. "Just one more time."

Sephiroth bowed his head, letting out a long breath. He closed his eyes, wrapping his arms slowly around himself. Cloud saw his thumbs cover the insides of his elbows, silently protecting the places where he would have needle scars by the time he was one, where Hojo violated him over and over while he tested. Where Cloud himself would always have marks after Nibelheim, and for the rest of his life, as long as he lived this time around.

"One more time," Sephiroth finally whispered. "Just one more time. But Cloud..."

"Yes, Sephiroth?" Cloud asked softly, still uneasy calling the man by name—still uneasy talking to him at all sometimes, despite the fact that they'd met so many times here—watched the world restart so many times.

"Try this time," Sephiroth whispered after a moment. "Try to save me. I don't think I'll ever be able to beat Jenova. Not unless something really changes. Something big."

Cloud watched him, eyes wide, and let out a shaking breath as he saw the shadows in Sephiroth's eyes—saw him steeling himself to accept the pain that would be his to suffer yet again. He thought of what it must have been like as a child in those labs, empty and alone. Thought of how broken he'd been inside after only a year, not to mention after four. Eighteen years in that place...

"I'll try," Cloud promised, blinking back empathetic tears he hadn't intended to spill. "I'll try."

"Remember," Sephiroth urged him, turning intense green eyes to him. "Cloud Strife, Hero, Soldier, whatever you become this time, remember that you promised to try."

"I will save you," Cloud whispered, wanting to reach out because the fear in Sephiroth's gaze looked so wrong and so hopeless. "I'll find a way. I'll save you."

* * *

Seven year old Cloud Strife jerked awake screaming from the nightmare. The same nightmare he always had.

"Remember," the stranger said, green eyes flaring in a way that reminded the child of blood and gore for no discernible reason. "Remember."

"Storm-Cloud, what's wrong?" his mother murmured as she walked inside the door to his room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her hair spilling messily from its braid, but still drawn to his cries.

"I dreamed about him again," Cloud whispered, lifting his arms to her and curling into her embrace when it was offered.

"The man with the green eyes?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," Cloud said softly. "The one who's at Shinra..."

"He's just a dream, precious." She yawned as she spoke, worn thin by long days of work and her son's nightmares, but still holding him close and rocking him gently.

"What if he's not?" Cloud whispered, looking up at her.

"Well," his mother murmured, turning her gaze to the wall and considering. "Then when you're a little older, we'll go to Shinra together. We'll go see what we can find out."

"How old?" Cloud asked wearily, snuggling into her arms.

"Hmm," the woman hummed, brushing her hands through his hair. "Thirteen."

"You promise?" Cloud whispered, curling up in her arms.

"It's just a dream," Mama Strife said in reply, brushing her fingers through his hair. "But if it's a dream that means that much to you, then we'll just have to find out for ourselves. We'll see when you're older. We'll see if it stays."

* * *

The dream stayed. Cloud grew older and taller, and something about the dreams of himself helped him keep an iron grip on what he wanted to be. He didn't care that the boys in town teased him for being weedy. Didn't care that Tifa ignored him. He had to focus on getting bigger—getting stronger. He helped his mother work on the rickety shingles on their roof and learned to re-attach the shudders when a storm coming from the mountains ripped them free. It made him strong, like he would need to be.

Because one day, he was going to march into Shinra and leave with somebody with silver hair and cat-green eyes.

"You're really a little old to believe in that dream still, Cloud," his mother would sigh, no longer so spry or so enthusiastic as she once had been, weathered by years of working hard in a town that did not want her or her bastard child.

"It never went away, Mama," Cloud Strife said at eleven years old. "It's never gone away. You promised."

"You aren't thirteen yet," his mother sighed, dusting the flour off her hands and putting them on her hips. "If you keep asking me, I'm going to change my mind."

The chance for her to change her mind never came. One morning, Cloud woke up from dreams of cold tubes and needles. He woke up from nightmares of swimming in Mako green, not breathing, but not dying. He woke up after what he could have sworn was not a dream at all, but a memory. Something holding him down. Someone cutting him open. Someone screaming his name.

And somewhere was someone with silver hair and cat-green eyes.

"Remember that you promised to try," he whispered to himself, staring up at the ceiling to his little room, where a crack was running through the stucco ceiling, a sign of the age of the little wooden building.

He looked down at his hands. They were small—petit almost. He couldn't wield a sword. He wasn't a hero or a Soldier like the dream had whispered in his ear. He wasn't even a teenager yet. He clenched his fist shut.

His mother was never going to take him to Shinra. She'd told her son a story to calm him down.

Cloud rose from his bed, looking around his room. It was pretty barren. He wasn't interested in posters or art, and his mother had always been grateful for that. It was one less thing to run her bank account dry. He only had a few pictures hanging up-drawings from when he was a child. They were all of green eyed men outlines of hair he hadn't filled in on the white paper. They didn't make silver crayons that he'd ever seen.

He walked to his window, staring outside at the unlit town. In a city like Nibelheim barely anyone stayed up this late. He could see the faint outline of the windmill on the other side of town, turning slowly in the slight breeze. The moon was bright, illuminating just enough of the ground to give it all a ghostly silver cast. Cloud looked down from his second story window to his mother's run-down old truck in the driveway. The truck he'd been driving for years now with his mom in the passenger's seat laughing. The truck that could probably make it to Shinra and back in one piece. If he drove very carefully.

It was a long drive. He was only eleven. He didn't have a license, or a bank account, or a weapon. He was just a little kid with a dream that woke him up screaming. A dream about a man twice his size—cold, and imposing, and who reminded him of murder and pain—who looked at him with fear in his eyes and asked him to try.

He wouldn't have to go downstairs. The roof extended right below his window over the kitchen area of his home. He could jump out his window and climb off it. He'd done it before once or twice, when he felt he really needed to walk off the nightmares. He took a deep breath, glancing to the door to his room. It would take his mother a few hours to figure out he was gone. Should he leave her a note? Would she follow him if he did? She'd never been prone to panic, but he knew that she loved him. He bit his lip, then shook his head. He'd be back by the next day, if everything went right. If everything didn't go right...He didn't want her to get in trouble because of his mistake.

"Well," he whispered to himself as he flipped the latch on his window and slid out into the cool night. "I have one thing on my side."

"They'll never see me coming."

* * *

Nothing ever goes as easily as it seems like it should at first, Cloud though to himself as he stared out the window of his truck at the big line of docks along the water front. Shinra had seemed so reachable at three in the morning with a car within reach. Now he was sitting in the truck staring down at the busy dock line, eyeing the ferries hooking cars onto their decks with trepidation.

He should have stolen some money.

"I've already come this far," he whispered to himself. "I can do this."

The question of 'how' remained an utter mystery to him. Step one, though, was driving down off the hill he was observing from and picking a ferry to try and get aboard. He would have to take the truck. He wouldn't be able to walk the distance to Midgar from the shore of the next continent. He took a deep breath, scanning the lines of cars for the one that looked busy but not too security-intense. He had a very very stupid idea.

He pulled in behind a car that didn't look much newer than the truck he was driving, and tried to calm himself down. He ran over his excuse over and over in his mind. When he pulled up to the sailors attaching the row of cars to their ship, they gave him a strange look. He swallowed back his nerves.

"My ma had me pull up while she did the paying!" He called out to them over the roar of engines. "Said I'm old enough to do some work now!"

A moment of hesitation followed, before the man who seemed to be in charge started laughing.

"Climb on out, kid!" he called up. "Let me get it from here before you crash into anything! You go find your mom and make sure she got to the captain!"

Cloud climbed out of the car and stumbled on fear-weakened legs. The sailors chuckled, and one patted his shoudler as he passed, teasing him about 'getting his sea legs.'

Cloud moved to the quietest spot on the boat he could find-just off the rail towards the front, and stayed there, trying not to make any noise or be noticed. He still had to get off the boat, but it was one step closer.

* * *

Getting off the boat was even easier than getting on. The men moved the cars off for their owners, one by one. All Cloud had to do was wait for them to go back to get the next vehicle, and he took off in his truck. He'd have to figure out a different way to get back, but he could cross that bridge when he came to it. He was on his way to Shinra. No turning back, and no more obstacles as big as the ocean he'd already cross. He grinned briefly to himself, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and ignoring the ache in his back from straining to drive the too-big vehicle.

Shinra really didn't see him coming. In fact, once he was parked and inside, no one seemed to see him at all. Cloud kept his head down, his expression neutral, and his hands in his pockets. If anyone saw him, it was to step a little further away from him. He looked like 'the help' to these rich city people. He looked out of place, and in doing so became unworthy of their notice.

If it hadn't been so damned useful, he would have been furious.

He'd been in the building for six hours. Six hours. He wandered in circles through dizzyingly confusing staircases and elevators that tended to leave him stranded places he couldn't access without keycards. He took to tailing people up and down, hoping that whatever floor he followed them to would hold some answer for him. Some clue.

It was a very busy building, but so far it was just that—a building. Sparkling clean office space with big windows and a few potted plants interspaced between the same few pieces of art repeated on every floor. There were a few spooky people in uniforms. No glowing cat-eyes in sight.

Eventually Cloud had to take a moment to sit in the lobby. His legs and feet hurt from walking through the building all day. It was huge, and he hadn't gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep the night before. He was losing track of what floors he had already explored. They all looked the same. Locked doors, security guards, and cubicles. It was a really depressing place.

Just as he was sighing, considering going home, something caught his eye from across the room. A woman in a white coat, her heels clicking firmly on the shining floor as she moved. He wasn't sure what it was about her that held his attention, but he'd come this far on a dream. He would go a little further on a gut feeling.

He followed her.

She got into an elevator built into a wall instead of the fancy glass ones up front. Cloud skittered in behind her. Unlike everyone else in the entire building, he found that the moment he was in the elevator with her, she was looking at him. It was not a comforting look. Her eyes were cold behind her glasses, and they glittered with interest.

"Going down?" she asked with a distasteful note in her voice.

"I-" he started, caught on the spot—uncertain what to say to keep his cover. He'd rehearsed all day running through lines in his mind like 'my father works here,' or 'I just go turned around.' Now that he needed them, they did not come to his lips.

"Let me guess," she purred. "A shrimp like you... Probably a foundling. Here for Hojo's 'treatments?'"

The way she purred the word—the way she said the name—it made Cloud unreasonably queasy. Or maybe it was just the name itself. Turning it over in his head felt long. It felt like treason in some way he didn't understand. He didn't let himself panic now. He nodded. If it would get him one step closer, he would agree.

"Honestly," she muttered, pressing a second button firmly. "Summoning you to the labs without any respect for those of us trying to actually get work done."

Cloud didn't say anything. He stared at the button that she must have punched for him, and felt something stir inside him. The illuminated number "B4" looked correct somehow. It looked like it belonged there, lit up in the elevator. Like he should have seen it a long time before.

The elevator jolted to a stop. It was not well-oiled or smooth like the glass-sided ones had been. The woman held the door after it opened and glared at him.

"This is your stop," She said coldly. "There's a waiting room down the hall, so just go right there. Don't open any doors. The things inside would probably eat you and make a mess."

She didn't sound like she was joking. Cloud stepped out of the elevator and didn't look back to see the doors close behind him. He just waited until he heard them snick shut. Then he let himself look up at the hallway stretching out before him. It was as dull as the rest of the building. The same art. The same potted plants. These plants were wilted and withering, and there was dust gathering in the corners. It looked like the cleaning people did not come downstairs often. The floors didn't gleam at al, but kind of stuck to the bottoms of his shoes as he took a few tentative steps forward.

Cloud walked to the very first window he could find, annoyed by the callous and ridiculous instructions the scientist had given him in the elevator. He looked up at the small, re-enforced window on the front of the door. It was a little high for him, but he could see inside with a little work. He rose up onto his tip-toes and peered inside, hoping for silver hair. Instead he gasped and lept back as something slammed itself against the door—something with very large teeth. He'd only seen a flash of its thick fur and ugly yellow teeth-he hadn't even seen any eyes. He shivered, staring at the door as it bucked and shivered under the monster's attack. He stayed perfectly still until the door stopped shaking. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the trembling in his hands.

He could stop right here and turn around. Surely someone with a keycard would let him back in the elevator if he just went to the waiting room. He shook his head, taking another slow breath. He'd come this far. He wasn't about to stop now.

The next window was just to an empty white room, full of blood. So was the one after that. In the third, something that looked mangy and almost-human lay curled in a corner, blood on it's mouth, sleeping a sated sleep. Cloud broke out in a cold sweat, backing away from the window.

What had he gotten himself into.

* * *

He wandered for hours. If this was just B4, he couldn't imagine how big this underground area was. There had been easily ten floors under this one, and these halls seemed to go forever, each branching off a central area—an enormous arena built from glass. Inside the floor was dark, but Cloud got the feeling it had not been built that way. The color was splotchy and ugly-as though it had been stained that way through horrible misuse. Cloud tried not to let himself shiver at the feeling of having it at his back as he walked away.

He'd found the waiting room he was supposed to go to, and gotten out of it as quickly as possible. It had smelled like piss and blood. It was not a comforting place to be. Not while he was doing his best to keep from throwing up with every new window he looked inside. He probably should have left—should have gone for help—should have found a way back upstairs. But there was a voice in his head, repeating urgently.

'Try, try, try, try, try.'

He was trying. No matter what he saw inside these windows, he was trying. He had it down to a system now. Stand on tip-toe, peer inside, jerk back, try to forget, try to forget, try to forget, go to the next.

His green eyed man couldn't be down here. He couldn't be. Cloud still didn't leave.

Now and then he heard movement—voices. There weren't many places to hide, so Cloud cut the difference. He pretended like he was supposed to be there. So far, none of the voices had come close enough to notice, so Cloud wasn't sure how well his nonchalantly leaning against a wall would go over with the no-doubt dangerous audience.

When he was a kid, he remembered his mother telling him that he could trust people in doctors clothes and uniforms to help him. He had the distinct impression that this was not the case with the people down here.

Check another window, try to forget. Check another window, try to forget. Really really really try not to throw up in the potted plants.

"Where are you?" Cloud whispered as he gasped for breath, leaning over the withered plant he had almost hurled into. "Where are you?"

"Where is who?"

The voice that answered him nearly made him scream. He clamped a hand over his mouth and whirled, looking for the owner of the flat, distant voice that had replied. There was no-one. The hallway was empty. Cloud choked in a shuddering breath, turning to face the dead end he'd been working his way towards.

"Hello?" He whispered, his voice wavering.

"You should not be here," the flat voice answered in return. "The Professor does not like subjects wandering."

"I'm not a subject," Cloud murmured, walking slowly towards the door. "I'm Cloud."

"Clouds are not audible," the voice said blankly. "They do not speak. If you are hallucinating, it is probably an effect of the drugs. Go back to your cell before he dispatches you. Or has me do so."

Cloud walked to the end of the hallway and drew up short. There was no need to look through a window in this cell. The walls were made of glass. Inside sat a naked boy, not much older than he was. He was all lean muscle and stillness, sitting perfectly calm in the middle of his empty room, as though this were a perfectly average series of events. His hands rested on his thighs, palm down, as though he had been meditating or stretching before he was interrupted.

His silver hair hung down past his shoulders. His cat-like eyes were fixed on Cloud with a look that was caught between predatory and bored. Cloud felt his insides turn cold.

"It's you," he whispered, walking forward to touch his fingers to the glass, like a child at a zoo. The name of his dream-mate rose to his lips without thought. "Sephiroth."

"How do you know that name?" The boy asked, suspicious. He rose to his feet, slowly, carefully. He moved like a tiger—not necessarily fast, but with every move calculated and dangerous. Cloud almost shivered.

"I don't know," Cloud replied softly. "All I know is that I promised you I'd try."

Cold green eyes blinked. Pupils narrowed, widened, and narrowed again. Cloud watched as the young man inside the cell inspected him carefully—every inch of him. His silver hair glittered in the light as he tilted his head and inhaled slowly, thoughtfully, mulling over his words before they left his lips.

"Then you," he said softly, "Are that Cloud."

"I am," he whispered, not in the slightest surprised to hear recognition in the voice. After all, he'd known Sephiroth's name as though on instinct. He pressed his fingers harder against the glass. "I came to get you."

"I see," Sephiroth whispered, looking down at himself. Cloud watched as the young man lifted a hand, inspecting it closely. He couldn't see what the man was inspecting on his palm with such intensity. "I thought you were a new one for me to kill."

His voice was empty on the words—he sounded almost bored. Cloud shook his head, trying not to tremble at the bored declaration of assumed violence—the cool confidence with which Sephiroth had assumed he could destroy Cloud. Maybe he could, Cloud thought. Maybe those dreams had known something. Those images of gore—of blood—that accompanied even a sliver of an image of green eyes.

"I came here for you," Cloud whispered, not knowing what else to say.

"You're the first," Sephiroth replied. "You're the only."

"Then will you come with me?" Cloud asked, pressing his hand more firmly against the glass.

"Yes," Sephiroth replied blankly. "Stand clear, or you will be hurt."

"You can break the glass?" Cloud asked softly, even as he stepped back. "Why didn't you just leave?"

"Where would I go?" Sephiroth replied.

The words were heavy, even from the seemingly empty boy. They carried a weight that Cloud didn't understand—a loneliness he'd never encountered before. He didn't know what to say in response, so he said nothing. He just watched while Sephiroth fired a spell—it had to have been a spell, because Cloud had never seen anything else like it—and melted the entire glass wall in the front of his cell. Cloud tensed, waiting to hear sirens going off. Nothing happened. There was no warning of jail break, or blaring alarm, or flashing light.

"Is there a silent alarm?" Cloud asked softly, looking around them quickly.

"I have never tried to leave," Sephiroth replied from alarmingly close.

Cloud whirled, eyes fixing on the young man who was easily a head—maybe more—taller than him. He gazed down at him with even, empty eyes. Cloud wondered, suddenly, what exactly he was rescuing.

"We need a hat," he said suddenly, looking up at the unnaturally silver hair. "And clothes," he added, attempting not to look at the uncomfortably close naked body of the teenager.

"This way," Sephiroth replied, turning and leading the way through the hallways.

Cloud couldn't help but think, as he followed him, that there was something in the way the young man walked that made him look like he ought to be followed. There was something in his very stride that screamed 'leader,' and something inside Cloud that begged to follow him. It didn't matter that he'd been the one to break in here to find him (not that his break-in had been at all spectacular.) It only mattered that Sephiroth was leading the way and Cloud was following.

He didn't know what he'd do when it became his turn to do the leading.

* * *

"This will not work," Sephiroth cautioned as Cloud handed him a set of clothes from a locker that didn't look like they would be too huge on him.

"Who's doing the rescue here, you or me?" Cloud asked, glancing back at him.

"Considering that you seem to have no idea what you are doing," Sephiroth replied calmly, even as he slid on the shirt and started diligently rolling up the sleeves, "I would say it has become a joint endeavor."

"You talk like a robot," Cloud muttered to himself, digging around in the locker and huffing when he didn't find a hat or a key-card.

"Was that an insult?" Sephiroth asked from behind him, sounding far more confused than he sounded insulted.

"It was an observation." Cloud said, going on to the next locker and jerking it open. No one seemed to care about locking the things, despite their names. Maybe they thought no one in their right mind would be down here stealing things.

Maybe they thought no one would survive trying.

"I will need shoes," Sephiroth commented mildly.

"Then go find some," Cloud huffed. "I'm not the only person with thumbs in the room."

"I-" Sephiroth started, as though bewildered by the reply. Cloud looked back in time to see the confusion on Sephiroth's face, as though it had never crossed his mind that he might participate in the activity. Cloud watched him until Sephiroth's eyes left his, tracing over the line of lockers. The silver-haired man (boy, Cloud silently corrected himself) eventually moved forward and crouched. He opened one of the lower lockers, hesitantly, as though anything might jump out at him. Cloud turned back to his task, rummaging around for anything resembling a hat or a key-card.

"What is your plan?" Sephiroth asked softly.

"My plan?" Cloud replied, glancing back at him.

"For escaping."

"Oh," he turned back to the lockers, closing the latest disappointment to open the next. "We walk out."

There was a dull thump behind him, and Cloud looked over to find that Sephiroth had dropped the shoe he was inspecting in favor of staring at Cloud in surprise.

"We walk..." he repeated softly.

"Trust me," Cloud said mildly as he watched the young man in the too-baggy clothes with the too-thin face gawk at him. "It got me in the building, it will get us both out."

"It will get us both killed," Sephiroth rasped.

"Who's the one getting rescued here?" Cloud repeated in a growl, turning back to the locker. He gave a soft crow of triumph, pulling free a hat and tossing it at Sephiroth. "Here. Get your hair under that so you look more-" He broke off, suddenly unsure of himself.

"Normal?" Sephiroth supplied, his eyes narrowed in what Cloud thought was either anger or hurt, but could have been either.

"Boring," Cloud corrected.

"Right," Sephiroth muttered, carding his fingers back through his hair to start pulling it up to the top of his head.

"I like it," Cloud muttered softly after a moment.

"You're welcome to it," Sephiroth replied, his voice bitter and cold. "I am tired of being special."

"Well," Cloud murmured after a long moment, jerking open the next locker. "Then stop complaining about looking normal."

"We have a hat," Sephiroth muttered. "Why are you still looking?"

"We need a card," Cloud replied softly. "To get on the elevator."

He heard Sephiroth mutter something to himself. It sounded suspiciously like "woefully unprepared."

"Look," he huffed, "if you think you can do a better-" He broke off with a yelp as a hand gripped his elbow from around the locker door.

"Got you, you little thief," The guard snarled, wrenching Cloud's arm behind his back and drawing a howl of pain from him. "Thought you could make off with company property, huh?"

"Let go," Cloud cried, struggling in the man's hold. Gods, his hand felt like it was crushing his wrist. Like he was literally breaking bones. Cloud kicked at the man's knees behind him as his other arm was caught, keeping him from trying to writhe away. He cast a glance to Sephiroth, opening his mouth to ask for help.

He looked up to see the teen cowered in the corner, his eyes wide and bright green, fear in his face. Cloud knew that fear. It was the fear he himself had felt when the bigger kids surrounded him with rocks. When he knew he was about to get hurt. When he couldn't do anything to stop it.

"Sephiroth," he gasped, the name followed immediately by a scream as the guard wrenched his arms together behind his back, binding them with something cold and hard. He scrambled to get away, and was rewarded by being slammed against the lockers, the cold metal pressing into his cheek.

"Wait till Hojo gets ahold of you," the guard snarled. "He don't like anyone so much as talkin' to his little pet project. Tryin' to steal it? Well, that's gunna land you in a world of hurt, kid."

"Seph," Cloud wheezed, finding himself out of breath—out of strength—utterly out-matched. "Run."

Their eyes met, Sephiroth's terrified and acid-green, Cloud's bright, tear-filled blue. Cloud saw Sephiroth inhale. He did not see what happened next. He just knew that the force holding him against the wall vanished, and an enormous sound followed—a crash and a thud. He wanted to turn and watch, but he just slid down the lockers, gasping for air, gagging on the pain in his shoulders and chest.

The guard yelled, and Cloud heard what sounded like a gunshot. Then there was a sickening snap. Then silence.

He turned slowly, shifting himself with a great deal of discomfort to look behind him at what had happened.

He turned just in time to see Sephiroth slowly release the broken neck of the guard and unclip the keycard from his chest pocket. The pale, inhuman boy looked up to Cloud from where he stood over the body. The fear was gone from his eyes, replaced again by blankness. He walked over slowly, crouching by Cloud.

"Your keycard," he murmured. "Now turn around. I'll release your hands."

"You killed him," Cloud whispered, shocked—horrified—happy.

"Of course," Sephiroth replied, as though it had been the most natural thing in the world.

Cloud heard a sharp break of metal, and slowly drew his arms around to look down at them. They'd been handcuffed. One of the middle links had been broken. He looked down to Sephiroth's hands to watch the missing link drop from his fingers. He didn't dare say what he was thinking. He didn't dare risk pushing the young man over the edge.

He was very, very certain in that moment that Sephiroth was not human. He was certain of it right until the older boy wavered and fell against him, his hot blood staining Cloud's front as the gunshot wound in his shoulder that Cloud had failed to notice bled heavily onto him. Then every thought of inhumanity fled Cloud in an instant, replaced by fear.

"Oh no," Cloud whispered, staring at the silver head suddenly resting on his shoulder. "Sephiroth..."

"We need to go," Sephiroth rasped, trying to push himself up and away from Cloud and failing to.

"He shot you," Cloud whispered, terrified.

"It will heal," Sephiroth rasped in return.

"Stop moving," Cloud scolded swiftly, lifting his hands to catch Sephiroth's shoulder. "We need to get you to a hospital!"

"Be quiet." Sephiroth hissed, snarling at Cloud. "You're too loud."

"Let me see" Cloud insisted, moving his hands to the base of Sephiroth's shirt, pulling upwards.

Sephiroth's hand gripped him on the exact same place of his wrist the guard had, and Cloud yelped in pain at the touch, despite himself. It froze both of them solid for a moment. Then Sephiroth slowly released his wrist, withdrawing from him to sit heavily against the lockers on the other side of the cramped hallway.

"Don't touch me," the teenager whispered, his eyes haunted as he gazed at Cloud.

"You need help," Cloud whispered. "A bandage. Something to stop the bleeding."

"I don't like being touched," Sephiroth said in reply, his voice low, but not dangerous anymore, somehow. He just sounded scared to Cloud.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Cloud whispered, trying to stop his hands from shaking.

"I'll hurt you." Sephiroth threatened, eyes narrowing dangerously. "If you touch me, I'll kill you like I killed that man."

Cloud hesitated, already halfway through grabbing one of the discarded sets of clothes to use as a makeshift bandage. He looked up at Sephiroth, brows twisted in concern and what he hated to admit was fear. It had been so easy for the boy—snuffing out that life. It hadn't taken more than a breath—more than a moment.

"You wouldn't really do that, would you?" He asked softly.

Sephiroth stared back at him, his gaze empty. Cloud didn't know what to make of that gaze except that, perhaps, even Sephiroth himself didn't know. He took a steadying breath and tried very hard not to panic. He could already smell the body across the room as it started to relax and spill all-too-human waste onto the floor.

"If you're bleeding everywhere, there's no way my idea will work," Cloud urged softly.

"Give them," Sephiroth replied, holding out a hand that was soaked with blood from pressing against his wound.

Cloud passed the extra clothes he was holding without a word, watching as Sephiroth soundlessly bound his bleeding shoulder with the extra shirt and pair of jeans. He could hardly believe it when the teen stood slowly out of his slump, testing the tie around his torso and pulling on a spare too-big jacket from the floor.

"How can you even move?" Cloud asked, forcing himself to his feet on sheer will alone. His body ached from the abuse. He cast around and found another extra jacket with sleeves long enough to cover the dangling ends of the handcuffs on his arms. He zipped it up over the new bloodstains on his shirt.

"The elevator," was all Sephiroth said in response.

Cloud almost reached out to him, but he stopped himself. Sephiroth's threat was still ringing in his ears. Nothing felt real to him—it was like he was floating. He swallowed hard, nodded, and turned to lead the way to the elevator. He wondered as he walked what, exactly, he was trying to take from Shinra.

* * *

He couldn't believe the plan worked. Even though it had been his plan in the first place. They just rode the elevator up and left the building. Despite the too-big clothes, hidden wounds, and the bruises Cloud could feel forming on his face. No one blinked twice. Cloud got the distinct impression that they were used to ignoring what came out of the elevator to the basements.

The only problem came when they first stepped out of the building. Sephiroth paused in the middle of the entryway, staring upwards holding perfectly still. Cloud turned to look at him, bewildered. There was no emotion on the man's face, but he rocked slightly where he stood, as though nailed in place and pushed by a slight wind.

"Hey," Cloud hissed. "Come on. Someone will notice."

Sephiroth's eyes slid down to Cloud. he looked strange with his uncanny hair hidden under the dark cap. It made his pale eyebrows look almost invisible-his bright green eyes that much more uncanny. For a moment, both of them were frozen, gazing at each other. Then Sephiroth took another step forward and followed Cloud into the parking lot. Cloud winced at how obvious his ugly country truck was in the middle of all the gleaming futuristic cars around it.

"Get in," He muttered, opening the passenger's side door for Sephiroth.

The teen hesitated, wavering slightly. He'd seemed perfectly stable in the building—almost regal, actually. He moved with such purpose. Now that purpose was fading in wake of blood loss or pain. He looked to Cloud, eyes narrowing.

"Where do we go?" He asked.

"I'm taking you home," Cloud replied firmly. "I live in Nibelheim. It'll be along drive, but the truck should hold out."

"Why?" Sephiroth asked, even as he leaned lightly against the side of the truck for support.

"I don't know," Cloud said softly. "But I know you saved my life, and I know I want to help. That's... Just the best place I can offer."

Sephiroth hesitated a moment longer, then moved forward, climbing slowly and stiffly into the passenger's seat, curling around his wounded shoulder. Cloud glanced back at the building, expecting to see guards pouring out to follow them. There was next to no one leaving the building. It was still the middle of the work day. He closed the door on Sephiroth and moved around to the driver's side, pulling the keys out of his pocket as he went, trying to ignore the way his hands were trembling and the pain that was still coursing through him after the roughing-up the guard had given him. He allowed himself a single sniffle and then steeled himself against the discomfort and climbed into the driver's seat.

"You should buckle in," he warned as he started the old truck with a rattling cough of the engine.

Sephiroth didn't move. He just curled up against the door, his eyes fixed out the window. Cloud watched him a moment before fastening his own seat belt. The smell of blood was already filling up the cab.

"We should go to a hospital," he whispered as he pulled out of the parking space he'd found, the murmur soft as he focused on not running into the much-nicer cars surrounding his mother's truck.

"That is where doctors work," Sephiroth said just as quietly. "Do not take me there."

"You could die," Cloud replied, glancing over at him. "You got shot."

"I will not go to a hospital," Sephiroth replied softly. "Take me to your home."

"It's not much of a rescue if I get you killed," Cloud hissed.

"If you attempt to take me there, I will run," Sephiroth whispered. "If you catch me, I will snap your neck. I will not go to a 'hospital.' Take me to your home if you wish to 'save' me."

Cloud grit his jaw, glancing over at him. "That is just your answer to everything, isn't it?" he rasped. "Threaten to kill me."

Sephiroth didn't so much as look at him, but Cloud could see his reflection in the rear view mirror on the other side. The mirror had been nicked at some point during the car's life so that it always faced inward. He could see Sephiroth's face in it, pale and drawn. His eyebrows were lowered and his lips were pressed together in a thin line. Cloud realized almost belatedly that he might have been acting calm, but he was really hurt.

'Try,' the dark voice in his mind whispered, rising strange associations of blood and gore. Cloud was beginning to wonder about those violent background images.

He drove.

* * *

An hour down the road, the day caught up to Cloud. He had to pull over to vomit. The sickening crunch of a man's neck breaking—the blood that was still staining his clothes under the borrowed jacket—the reek of injury filling the truck's cabin... It was all too much. He leaned against the side of the truck, coughing as he stared sightlessly down at the mess he'd left on the ground, lifting a shaking hand to the bruise on the side of his face. The man in the labs had been hurting him. The silver handcuffs still adorned his wrists, jingling softly as he moved, the red skin beneath them already bruising deeply.

"Gotta get home," he whispered to himself, trying to focus as he climbed shakily back into the car.

There was no reply from Sephiroth. He was curled up in his seat, fast asleep, his hands both curled around the handle on the door for security. Cloud hoped that it wasn't bad to let him sleep as hurt as he was, but there was nothing he could do.

He coaxed the old car back into motion and headed to Nibelheim, keeping a close but helpless eye on the ever-worsening condition of Sephiroth as he drove.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY, I FORGOT TO POST THIS!

"Kid," the ferry hand said, his hands closed around the length of pipe he was holding. "You had better to some fast talkin', or you are in a world of trouble."

"I know," Cloud gasped, standing in front of the truck, trembling with tension. "I know, but I had to get to my friend." He gestured helplessly to the window of the truck.

He had forgotten this. He couldn't believe he had forgotten this. That he would be running into the same ocean that he had crossed in the first place. The dock hands were not going to be fooled by his stupid little ploy this time.

Cloud's internal terrified monologue, afraid of being beaten worse when he already ached so fiercely, cut off abruptly as the sailor flinched at what he saw in the truck. Cloud turned to see for himself.

Sephiroth was leaning against the window. The dark cap was still on his head, making him look paler and sicker than he was. At least, Cloud hoped that was the case. Aside from the breath fogging the window, he looked like a corpse.

"The hell did you kids get into?" the man asked gruffly.

"Shinra was—" Cloud started, his voice quavering in tension.

"Shinra!" The dock hand spat, interrupting Cloud's explanation.

The men at his back muttered angry agreements, grumbling the name as though it were a curse.

"Greedy bastards," the man snarled. "Soon they'll drive all us honest folk out of business."

Cloud swallowed, staring at the furious glare the man had turned to a dock further down the shore line, emblazoned with the Shinra logo.

"I promise I'll pay you back." Cloud swore, his voice shaking, hoping against hope to get Sephiroth and himself across. "As soon as I can—however you want—just please help me get him home."

"Son," The man said, lifting a hand to silence him. "You had me at 'Shinra.' Put your truck in neutral. Hook 'em up, boys."

"Thank you," Cloud whispered, hurrying around to the truck door and scrambling inside. "Thank you."

"We can cross, then?" Sephiroth said softly once Cloud had closed the door.

Cloud looked over at him, but Sephiroth hadn't moved an inch. His eyes weren't even open. He was slumped in the passenger's seat. His hands on his lap. Cloud could see blood on his right palm, and shifted once he'd gotten the stubborn truck into neutral. There was a dark stain starting to appear through the jacket Sephiroth was wearing.

"Yeah," Cloud said softly. "How are you?"

"I will live," Sephiroth replied, his head lolling wearily against the window to look to Cloud. His eyes blazed green under his thick eyelashes, only barely visible as he squinted at him.

"We won't have far to go once we're across." Cloud promised softly as their truck was moved into position and secured.

"Wake me when we are there." Sephiroth whispered in return, his head turning again, pressing his cheek against the cool glass and sinking slowly into sleep again.

Cloud curled up in the driver's seat and stayed there. He didn't watch the boat launch this time, but instead kept his eyes on Sephiroth—on the fog of his breath on the window. Each time that fog appeared, Cloud could breathe for a moment, assured that the other boy was still breathing. The cab of the truck smelled like blood. Sephiroth's hair was falling around his face, caught in his dark eyelashes and laying against his lips.

Every moment seemed to take an hour. Every breath an eternity. What would he do if Sephiroth stopped, Cloud wondered. If he stopped breathing, it would be his fault. He'd have killed him by following the stupid dreams he'd had too soon. He reached out, placing his hand lightly on Sephiroth's. The other boy jerked away, twitching away from the hold and curling up, making not a sound.

Cloud pulled back, staring at him a long moment before curling up, placing a hand on the bruises on the back of his neck and holding as still as he could, trying to breathe evenly.

'He'll be alright,' he whispered to himself in his head. 'He has to be.'

The truck ran out of gas just as Cloud pulled up in front of his house. The old rust-bucket gave out with a cough and a choke before he could pull into the driveway. It reminded Cloud disturbingly of the soft gasps Sephiroth had been giving in his sleep.

"Cloud Strife!" a fierce voice called the moment Cloud started opening the door.

He looked up to see his mother storming out of the house. She looked furious. He ignored it completely and ran to her, his heart thundering in his chest.

"Where the hell have you-"

"Mama, he won't wake up!" Cloud cried, grabbing her sleeve and turning back towards the truck at once, dragging her behind him. "He won't wake up!"

"Who—" his mother started. He felt the shift in her when she saw the shape in the passenger's side, as she pushed past him to run to the car. "Gods."

"Someone shot him," Cloud gasped, running after her on legs that were shaking. "He said he was alright, but he won't wake up anymore!"

"Why didn't you take him to a hospital?" His mother snapped instantly, carefully opening the door and catching Sephiroth's limp form as he dropped into her arms.

"I couldn't," Cloud gasped, moving forward to help her with the boy when he saw that she was having difficulty holding him up. "I'll explain everything, but we gotta help him, Ma!"

"Help me get him inside," she ordered. "We'll call the nearest hospital as soon as we've got him settled."

Cloud didn't bother arguing. Sephiroth wasn't awake to snap his neck anyhow. He slipped under the boy's other arm, helping his mother drag him out of the car and into the house. The soft sounds of pain that escaped Sephiroth were the first signs of discomfort he'd seen in the other boy since he was hurt in the first place. He was heavy, and Cloud was shorter than his mother—she was taking the brunt of his weight. When they reached the door, Cloud ducked out from under Sephiroth's arm to open it before helping his mother drag the unconscious young man over the stoop.

"Sofa," Lillian Strife ordered. "I need to get a look at him."

Cloud nodded, dragging Sephiroth closer, trying not to let his aching back and the fierce bruises get in his way. He blinked back tears, dragging Sephiroth into the main room of their little house. The young man's poorly-fitting stolen shoes slid off him as they went. Cloud almost dropped him, gasping before he relaxed as his mother eased him gently down, her arms wrapped under Sephiroth's arms as she carefully set him back.

"Help me get his shirt off," she ordered. "I don't know what you two got into, but that does not feel like a proper bandage under there."

Cloud hurried to comply, carefully stripping the jacket off of Sephiroth, hearing his heavy breaths jolt and shudder out of him. He looked over to see his mother carefully peeling the bloody pair of pants off from where Sephiroth had tied them rather clumsily around his own shoulder. She hissed softly as she saw the blood-stained shirt beneath. Cloud swallowed hard, and helped her remove that from the man as well, dreading what they would see.

He was briefly struck, as they pulled Sephiroth's shirt off, by how deeply he was really breathing. His chest rose and fell heavily with his every gasp. Then his gaze was drawn to the messy, sticky blood on his chest. The first thing he noticed was that it was all drying. He watched his mother reach out, carefully touching the place where the wound had been, and frowning to herself a moment after.

"You're certain..." She whispered. "You're certain this happened today."

"I've been driving a long time," Cloud whispered. "I think it might have been yesterday, technically." The trip was one big blur. Cloud was just focused on the stark, ugly brown stain on Sephiroth's pale skin.

"There's no way," his mother whispered, before slowly straightening. "Stay with him. I'll be right back."

Cloud nodded silently, wrapping his arms around himself and ducking his chin. Sephiroth still looked like a corpse—pale and tense. The hat was falling off, revealing silver locks of hair, bunched up and tangled from being constrained. Cloud reached out hesitantly, pulling the hat off of him and setting his hair free. He looked a little better, Cloud thought, without the dark cap standing in contrast to his pale skin. The other boy shifted on the sofa, letting out a shaking breath, but he still didn't wake. Cloud reached out to touch him, and pulled back instantly, startled by how cold his skin felt.

"Here we are." His mother murmured as she walked back into the room, a washcloth in hand.

"He's cold." Cloud said softly in concern.

"First things first." His mother replied, crouching before Sephiroth and placing a hand on the center of his chest, bracing him as she brushed the wet cloth over the bloodstain.

Sephiroth twitched and jerked under her hand, but fell still instantly afterwards, as though exhausted by the effort. Cloud was certain he didn't imagine the expression on Sephiroth's face shifting uncomfortably. His mother inhaled sharply, and Cloud looked to her work quickly. He froze when he saw what she'd uncovered.

There was a twisted scar in Sephiroth's skin where there should have been a gaping hole. Cloud didn't know much about medicine, but he was certain—absolutely certain—that a gunshot wound received so recently shouldn't even be fully scabbed over at this point. Certainly not healed into ugly red scar tissue.

"I'm serious," Cloud whispered softly. "It really was... It really was bad..."

"I believe you," his mother murmured softly, even as she stared at the wound. "Healed or not, he's lost a lot of blood."

"Mama," Cloud whispered, looking up to her, "you won't send him away, right? They were holding him prisoner. He was in this cell and—"

"What the hell were you thinking?" Mama Strife hissed. "You could have been killed. You went to Shinra? By yourself?"

"He needed me." Cloud whispered, wrapping his arms around himself a little more tightly. He knew he shouldn't have hunched up any further when he saw his mother's eyes fix on his neck.

"What happened to you?" She snapped moving forward in an instant and yanking Cloud's collar down to show the bruise on the back of his neck. "Who did this?"

"I—" Cloud started, his mouth going dry. "A—A guard did... S... Sephiroth stopped him before he could hurt me worse..."

"Who?" his mother asked, sitting back, before pointing to the young man's limp form slumped on her sofa. "Him?"

"He saved me," Cloud whispered, feeling his stomach churn. "He... He killed the guard."

His mother went still. He felt her shiver as she slowly took a step back and crouched to look at him.

"Cloud," she whispered softly. "Who have you brought into my house."

"He can't be much older than me," Cloud whispered. "He's hurt, and he was scared, ma. The guard would have killed me... He saved my life."

"Who is he?" his mother repeated.

"I don't know," Cloud said, shaking his head. "But I know I've been dreaming about him since I was three... I know that he needs help, and I know that he saved me. Ma, they had him locked up all alone. He didn't even have any clothes. Please. Please help him."

"I'm helping him," his mother huffed, scowling at him. "You don't really think I'd throw a teenager out while he was unconscious, do you? Honestly. Go fetch the quilt from upstairs. We'll warm him up and figure out what we're doing when he wakes up."

"Thanks ma." Cloud breathed, turning to run and fetch the thick quilt from his room.

"Don't thank me yet!" the woman called after him. "We haven't even begun to talk about your punishment!"

Cloud didn't care. If he was grounded for the rest of his life, at least he would know that he'd gotten Sephiroth out of there, and hadn't killed him.

It wasn't until he was upstairs in his room gathering up the quilt that he stopped to think about the other side of this. The part of his dreams he hadn't told his mother about. The blood and loss and fear. The gore and cruel laughter. He hadn't told her about Sephiroth's threat either. He bit his lip, looking down at the thick handmade quilt he was holding. He didn't know anything about this man (boy, he reminded himself) except that he was important. If it was a trap—if the young man was dangerous, or meant them harm... Cloud shook his head quickly, shaking the thought away. Who could possibly want to trap him or his mother? They were just nobodies living in a backwater town.

"Paranoid," he whispered to himself in rebuke, turning and heading downstairs swiftly. "They were just dreams."

He tried not to think about the fact that 'just a dream' was also what his mother had said about Sephiroth himself. Sephiroth who was very heavy, smelled like blood, and was currently unconscious on his sofa.

All his musings were forgotten when he came back downstairs, replaced with worry for the pale young man, who had started to tremble as though freezing. He wrapped him up with his mother's help and lay him carefully on the sofa to rest. Then he sat nearby and waited, knowing that soon his mother would want to talk about his transgression, and wanting to watch as long as he could until then. He watched Sephiroth breathe with uneasy fascination, and resisted the urge to reach out and touch him.

"For one thing," his mother said sharply, gesturing with the tea cup she'd been drinking out of silently for the last half hour, "you are never driving that truck again."

"I didn't crash it," Cloud muttered. "It's fine."

"Oh, it won't be when I'm done," she took another swig of her tea, then scowled at it as though disappointed that it had not transformed itself into whiskey. "If I can't trust you to live next to a truck, we won't have a truck at all."

"Mom—"

"Don't 'mom' me!" Cloud flinched away from the scream. His mother never screamed. "Do you realize what could have happened to you? Look at your neck, Cloud! You could be dead right now!"

"He needed me," Cloud whispered weakly in reply. "I had to go."

"As if that is any excuse!" She slammed down her tea cup, stalking over to him and taking his shoulders in hand. "There is no one important enough for you to risk your life and safety for, Cloud! You are eleven years old, not a hero like you see on TV! Putting aside the danger you were in, just the very fact that you broke into Shinra is enough to ground you for the rest of your life!"

"You wouldn't listen to me!" Cloud screamed back at her, tears of frustration welling in his eyes. "I told you he was in trouble, I told you where he was, and you never listened! What was I supposed to do? I couldn't wait any more, mom! Look at him!"

"I am looking," his mother said coldly, "and I am not convinced you have done him any favors. Your escape attempt got him shot."

"I didn't," Cloud whispered, looking down at his hands, trying to fight back his tears. "I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. I couldn't leave him there. I couldn't. I promised…"

"You didn't promise him anything," his mother whispered fiercely. "This is not one of your dreams. A man is dead now, Cloud. And both of you came close to being dead as well. I should be calling the authorities, not...Not swaddling him."

"You wouldn't believe me," Cloud whispered, tucking his chin. "I had to do something."

"I need to think," his mother replied, releasing him sharply to stalk across the room again. "I don't even know what to say to you right now, much less what to do about this...This ridiculous mess that you have gotten yourself into."

Cloud choked back tears, wiping his face off quickly to hide them when they fell. Silence fell between them, and he stared at the floor, keeping half an eye on his tense mother as she fiddled with her tea, picking it up and putting it down again without drinking. Eventually she turned away from it all together, pulling open their pantry door and starting to pull out dinner items. Cloud's stomach gave a traitorous growl, but he couldn't feel the hunger. Only sickening anxiety. He lifted his gaze to the silver-haired man on the sofa, shifting back and forth on his feet and watching him rest.

There was no interval between Sephiroth lying inert on the sofa and standing alert against the far wall of their small home. Cloud jumped, only registering after a moment the sound of ripping fabric and movement. His mother went still as well, all their attention focused on the young man pressed back against the wooden side of the house.

Sephiroth stared at them from behind a deadened expression with cold eyes. Cloud watched the other young man's left hand twitch, rising towards where the bullet had pierced him before he forced it back to his side.

'Please don't be a homicidal maniac,' Cloud thought desperately, glancing worriedly to his mother.

"Cloud." Sephiroth finally rasped, sounding like there was gravel in his throat. "Then we made it to Nibelheim."

"Yeah," Cloud said softly.

Anything more he might have said was cut off by his mother.

"You sound parched," She said with a faint frown, her voice once more even and calm. "'Sit back down before you hurt yourself. I'll bring you some water."

Sephiroth's gaze to switched to her in a sharp motion. Cloud saw something change in the silver-haired man's stance. Cloud moved closer to him, just in case he needed to get between him and his mother. But Sephiroth made no move to attack. He just stood there, staring.

"Um," Cloud murmured after a moment, "this is my mom…"

"A mother," Sephiroth muttered to himself, leaning back slowly against the wall. "Strange…"

His voice seemed quieter, and Cloud moved forward, worry lacing through him like a jolt. He reached out a hand, but Sephiroth slapped it away lightly, shaking his head.

"No touching." He muttered, though the warning was half-hearted. His eyelids dropped before he snapped back to focus, trying to stay awake. "What are you going to do with me now?"

"Feed you dinner, first off." Cloud's mother replied from across the room, where their stove and 'kitchen' area was.

It was hard for Cloud to tell if kitchen was an appropriate term. He knew that in other houses kitchens had rooms all their own, but their old house still had the combined eating and living areas that came from a time when wood stoves were the only heating in an entire house. Often, he and his mother went back to doing things that way. They could always cut more wood. They couldn't always afford more electricity.

"And then?" Sephiroth rasped, his eyes tightening at the corners.

"Then bed," she answered, pointing the spoon she was using at him. "And didn't I tell you to sit down? There's water for you at the table. You'll wear yourself out."

"I'm fine," Sephiroth insisted, baring his teeth briefly.

"Manners." Lillian Strife scolded sharply. "Were you raised in a barn?"

"No, ma'am." Sephiroth grated through clenched teeth.

"Then act like the guest you are. Come sit down. Drink up while I whip up some dinner for you boys."

Cloud glanced to Sephiroth, finding the cat-like eyes pinned to him almost accusingly. He shrugged at the other teen, shaking his head a little.

"She's right," he commented to the silver-haired man. "You really ought to sit down. You weren't doing too good on the way here…"

"Weren't doing too well, Cloud." His mother corrected, glancing at him with an almost sarcastic look in her eye.

"Too well," Cloud muttered, correcting himself with a blush. "You really shouldn't be up and about…"

"It was just one bullet," Sephiroth muttered as though that were the most mundane injury he could think of.

Despite his grumbling he pushed off the wall, walking stiffly over to the table. He arched his back lightly as he moved, and Cloud could hear his spine crack at the motion, as the young man worked the kinks out. Probably from too long collapsed in the passenger's seat of the truck. He sat slowly at the table, his suspicious gaze flicking to the other two people in the room before he settled where he was.

"We were on a ferry," he commented, his eyes sliding to Cloud. "We are on the other continent?"

"Yeah," Cloud gave a small shrug, moving over towards the table and settling in next to Sephiroth, though he kept his distance. "I don't think anyone followed us or anything."

"This from the person who's brilliant plan was to just walk in and out of Shinra as though he was a pre-teen employee." Sephiroth drawled. Cloud flinched as his mother put down one of her ingredients a little too loudly after hearing that.

Sephiroth was fiddling with the glass of water, but hadn't taken a drink yet. Cloud watched his intense scrutiny of the water with confusion. Long, pale fingers twisted the glass backwards and forwards, slowly, as Sephiroth peered into it. Cloud had no idea what he thought he would see inside, but he didn't comment. For the moment, Sephiroth was sitting still and didn't appear to be a threat. Cloud wasn't in a hurry to change that.

The other boy didn't say anything more. He didn't appear to have any interest in conversing, and certainly didn't seem inclined to offer any thanks. Cloud caught himself staring at the scar on Sephiroth's shoulder where there should have been a wound, and turned his eyes away, watching his mother instead as the pans on the stove before her sizzled and hissed, filling the silence with the smell of cooking sausage and eggs.

Cloud fidgeted awkwardly, waiting for someone to say something. He wasn't sure if he should be unnerved by the silence or grateful for it. He let out a soft breath when his mother pulled the pans off the flame, flicking off the stove and pulling out some of the dishes from the cabinet above her work area.

"Here we are." Cloud's mother walked over to the table with a business-like stride and three plates balanced on her arms.

Cloud smiled a little at the reminder of her old job as a waitress before she got hired at the little library. He took his plate from her carefully as she placed down the offerings before them. It was an extravagant meal—not at all the usual fare of beans and rice. Cloud's mouth watered at the smell.

Sephiroth stared at the plate of meats and eggs. For a moment, Cloud bristled, taking his silent observation for derision. Then Sephiroth's eyes flickered up to his mother, uncertainly. His left hand was twitching again, as some struggle took place inside of him.

"Go on," his mother said. "Eat up before it gets cold."

The strange young man tucked his chin, staring out of guarded eyes at Lillian and Cloud both. Then he picked up his fork slowly.

Cloud should have been focusing on his own dinner, but he was entirely distracted watching Sephiroth eat. He was neat and precise, his manners impeccable aside from his silence, but his eyes…

His eyes reminded Cloud of starving wolves he'd seen, tearing apart carcasses to devour every scrap of flesh. He only looked away when Sephiroth glanced to him, a look like a challenge in his flashing gaze.

Cloud looked away on impulse, then frowned to himself as he picked at his own dinner. It hadn't occurred to him until he'd already averted his gaze that the look they'd exchanged had been a power play in and of itself. It made him highly uncomfortable how quickly he'd folded and looked away.

His mother sat across from him, watching Sephiroth with a raised eyebrow. Cloud watched her just long enough to see when Sephiroth glanced up at her with that same challenge. Unlike their eye contact, Cloud was privy to watching his mother arch her eyebrow a half an inch higher. Sephiroth was the first to look away, setting down his fork slowly. His plate was already clear.

"Round two," Lillian said calmly, lifting his plate from in front of him and walking to the stove, replacing the devoured food. "You could use all the iron you can get after how much blood you lost."

She returned to the table, putting the plate down in front of him. Sephiroth stared at it, then lifted his gaze to her in confusion. He studied her face, his fingers drumming lightly on the table as he thought.

"I can have this too?" He asked after a moment.

"If you're still hungry, have at it," Lillian said flippantly.

The look she gave Cloud was anything but flippant. Her expression was grim and dark. Cloud could see the mother in her winding up at the soft, uncertain way Sephiroth had asked. He'd seen that look once or twice before, when she saw something that she considered unforgivable. It was the same look she'd gotten when she found out that the bruise on Cloud's cheek when he came home was not from another little boy, but from a grown man who'd disapproved of his inquisitive nature.

"You still haven't answered," Sephiroth had swallowed carefully before speaking. Cloud looked up, his mouth full of eggs. "What you'll do with me. I heard what you told Cloud. You did not consent to my being brought here."

"That doesn't much matter," Lillian said firmly. "You're here now, and unless there's some family you'd rather be with, you'll be staying with us. It's summer vacation, after all. No better time to get some good mountain air in your lungs."

Sephiroth gave her a strange look, his mouth twisting and his nose wrinkling in confusion. He looked like he'd just been presented with a logic puzzle involving seventeen mice and quantum physics. Cloud had to hide his grin behind his hand. He shouldn't have been so worried. His mother wasn't cowed by anyone, and if he was protective of people, she was a Nibelwolf Den Mother. Crossing her meant being confronted with fangs.

"I do not have family." Sephiroth replied blankly and slowly.

"Then with us for the summer it is," Lillian replied firmly. "If it starts closing in on the school year we'll see about getting you registered then."

"You're awesome, Ma," Cloud whispered.

"We'll see if you still think that when you're done with all the extra chores you'll be picking up," Lillian snapped, her calm motherly voice hardening in anger. "You're still in deep trouble young man."

"No," Sephiroth shifted, and Cloud blinked in surprise as the young man half-rose, shifting forward just a little, as though to place himself between Cloud and his mother. He froze halfway through the motion, looking uncertain. "No, he… He should not be punished while I am not."

Cloud blinked at him, his lips parting in shock. He stared at the intense look on Sephiroth's face. He looked like he was steeling himself for pain, and something about the look on his face made Cloud's chest hurt. He didn't know what had happened to Sephiroth where he'd been, but he wasn't an idiot. Anywhere where they'd lock up children, attack people with threats of death, shoot first and ask questions later...There was no doubt Sephiroth was not from a nice place.

"It's alright," Cloud whispered despite himself, trying to keep his voice steady. "Ma's not going to hurt me or anything. Probably I'll just have to do extra dishes, sweep up, take over doing laundry...Things like that. Right Ma?"

"Quite right," She nodded in agreement. "And don't think I won't be putting you to work too in good time, young man. But for right now you need lots of rest and care till you're back in one piece. You can help Cloud with his chores once you're a healthier color."

Sephiroth sank slowly back into his seat, glancing between them before he lifted the glass of water, swirling it slowly.

"I am always this color." He muttered before taking a long drink.

Cloud did the dishes that evening. Sephiroth didn't object further. In fact, he didn't talk much at all after that. He turned down Lillian's offer to look his shoulder over, shying away from any touches she might offer, but otherwise sat still at the table, drinking water when it was offered. He'd eaten three helpings in the end, and looked like he was regretting it a little. Cloud didn't blame him, though. It had been delicious. And the look on his face both times his mother had brought another helping... Cloud was clinging to his manners to keep from asking why Sephiroth acted like seconds were an act of the Gods.

He shifted the wrong way and winced, dropping the plate he'd been holding and closing his eyes tightly. Pain lanced through him from the heavy bruises on his neck and wrists, the soreness in his back burned. He caught a breath, pushing the pain back and crouching stiffly to pick up the broken glass.

"Sweetheart," His mother, whispered, crouching with him and carefully tilting his face up. He hadn't even heard her cross the room. "Still hurting?"

"Just sore," he tucked his chin, picking up the shards of china with shaking hands. "Sorry about the plate…"

"Go to bed," She whispered, leaning forward and kissing his hair softly. "You need your rest. Your friend isn't the only one who got hurt today."

"It's just some bruises," Cloud whispered, blinking back tears of pain.

"You're only eleven," his mother whispered, urging him gently to his feet. "I can still fret over you for 'just some bruises' until you're at least thirteen. Come on. To bed."

Cloud wiped a hand over his face, but he didn't argue. He was exhausted. All the stress and uncertainty—all the pain and fear—it was catching up to him more and more by the moment. He took a shaking breath, looking over to where Sephiroth was watching them with suspicious eyes. They held eye contact for a moment, and Cloud saw the uncertainty in the predatory gaze melt away, replaced by something that looked almost like concern. Silver eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm glad you're alright," Cloud whispered. "Don't get shot anymore, okay?"

"No promises." Sephiroth rasped, closing his eyes again and leaning back in the chair.

"Ha ha, very funny." Cloud drawled, cracking a grin despite himself.

Sephiroth flicked a glance his way, and gave him a small half-smile. The look was terribly uncertain, but it seemed genuine enough.

"Enough of that, you two," Lillian scolded. "No joking about that for at least a month, got it?"

"Yes ma." Cloud agreed quickly.

"Yes ma'am." Sephiroth echoed.

"Sephiroth, you go to bed too," she ordered. "You can bunk on the couch tonight. Tomorrow we'll figure out your clothing situation and heat up some water for you to take a bath."

Sephiroth stood up slowly, stretching. He was tall—much taller than Cloud—but somehow he couldn't help but think the silver-haired man looked smaller than he should. In his dream, he was like a giant. So broad and strong and towering that Cloud himself, who was also bigger in his dreams, felt dwarfed.

"Good night, Sephiroth," He offered softly.

"Good night, Cloud." Sephiroth replied after a moment.

"Tomorrow I'll show you around town if you're up for it," Cloud offered. "It's small, but it's pretty nice."

"I'd like that," Sephiroth murmured, sitting slowly on the sofa.

He was running his hand over the quilt. It had a tear along the side from where he'd ripped it in his hurry to get up when he'd woken earlier, but he still stroked it like it was the softest thing he'd ever felt. Cloud thought back to the empty cell, and wondered if it was.

He went to bed without saying anything else. He lay down slowly, letting out a breath as he relaxed into bed. He could still feel the guard's hands on him—could still feel the bruising pressure and the terror of being choked. He closed his eyes tightly, throwing an arm over his face, and let the tears streak down his cheeks. He bit his lip to keep himself quiet as he cried out of the fear he hadn't let himself feel before, and out of confusion, because he still didn't understand how any of this had happened.

He cried until the side of his bed dipped, letting him know his mother was sitting there beside him. Then her warm hand rested over his chest, offering him soft comfort as she whispered reassurances to him, rubbing his shoulder ever so gently, gentler now than she had been in the daytime. Her presence made everything seem calmer and more stable. Cloud caught his breath, and soon he found himself drifting towards sleep instead of panic.

"It will be alright," Lillian whispered from above him as he drifted to sleep. "Everything's going to be alright, my sweet boy."


	3. Chapter 3

"Be good." Lillian Strife straightened Cloud's coat with a military precision, her face firm. "Stay safe. If anything strange happens, run to my work or the Mayor's house for help. Understand? I don't want to come home to find you hurt."

"It's fine, Ma," Cloud sighed. "He's still passed out on the sofa. You said yourself he was in rough shape last night. I bet he'll sleep the day away."

"Hn." Lillian glanced back into the house, her expression grim. "I also said that normal folk don't fix up as quickly after an injury as he did. Whatever's happening with that boy, he's not normal. You be careful around him."

"It'll be fine. He's not dangerous." The lie tasted sharp and sour on his tongue, but he forced aside the feeling. "See you tonight."

"Don't forget to do your chores." She straightened to her full height rather than fiddling with his clothes more, rolling her shoulders back proudly. "I expect a spotless house when I come home."

"Got it, Ma. I won't shirk."

She nodded her approval and headed out to work, side-stepping the truck still sitting outside their house, still out of gas from where Cloud had coasted it to a stop. He watched her leave, sighing to himself and running a hand through his hair. His fingers were cold from standing outside in the 6am chill, and before long he went back inside to the empty house.

Empty, that was, except for the still and strangely unearthly form lying still on the couch.

Cloud stared at the silver hair spilling over the sofa, and the pale hand half-curled on the floor where it had landed when it slipped off Sephiroth's chest sometime in the night. His face was passive and blank, his breathing slow. Cloud crept a little closer, wanting to watch him breathe for a moment. His face looked like it was a better color, but it was hard to tell. Even before the entire debacle he'd been bewilderingly pale—just like the man in his dreams.

Cloud shook his head at his own thoughts and turned away, walking back upstairs to work on cleaning his room—part one of his punishment. As far as punishments went, this one was relatively mild. Extra chores and a strict grounding were hardly the worst she could do. One time she'd forbidden him from leaving his room except for meals, and he'd nearly gone insane from boredom.

He cleaned his room as quietly as he could. He didn't want to be responsible for waking the strange person on their sofa. Even though he'd been the one to bring him home, he didn't trust him. He was supremely uneasy about the entire arrangement. It was made even worse by the fact that he was the one who'd made it happen in the first place.

Eventually, his room was officially cleaner than it had been in years, and he had no excuse not to get to work on the downstairs area. He moved quietly and sneakily, trying not to make too much noise as he started dusting the kitchen's less-used areas, starting as far away from Sephiroth as he could.

The moment he entered the main living area, he felt watched. The back of his neck tingled with the feeling of being observed, but every time he turned around, Sephiroth was just as limp and asleep as ever. He glanced around the rest of the room, wondering if, perhaps, the neighbor's cat had come to visit again, sneaking past his feet when he was bidding his mother goodbye.

The house was empty and quiet. If there were any mice or cats around, they were being particularly stealthy. Cloud turned back to dusting after a long while, careful to pick up the kitchen chair rather than dragging it over to the fridge. He didn't want to make that much noise, after all. The moment his eyes were back on his task, the creeping feeling of being observed returned. He turned more quickly, hoping to catch some sort of motion or indication of who was watching him. It occurred to him only after he looked to find an empty room and Sephiroth asleep on the couch once more that he might really just be paranoid.

But then, he'd considered the possibility that the dreams weren't real too. He tightened his lips, stepping off the chair and heading upstairs. He slipped quietly into his mother's room, poking around just a little bit, careful not to move anything too far out of place. He gave a soft 'aha' of victory, pulling out her small hand mirror and half-jogging downstairs again. He pretended to go back to cleaning, quietly angling the mirror over his shoulder to watch behind himself. As he wiped the dirty top of the fridge, the form on the couch in the living room stirred. Cloud caught a flicker of green as Sephiroth blinked an eye open.  
"I knew it," Cloud declared in triumph, turning abruptly to face him. "You are awake! Why were you faking? Are you going to lie there all day?"

"No one's told me to get up." Sephiroth said blandly, not bothering to close his eye again, but otherwise unmoving.

"Who do you think is going to?" Cloud fiddled with the hand mirror. "Ma's at work, and I'm not your boss."

"Who woke you?" Sephiroth asked after a moment, an expression somewhere between suspicion and bewilderment on his face.

"My… Mother?" Cloud hopped carefully off the chair, pushing it back over to the table and setting down the mirror. "She always gets me up and started on my chores before she goes to work."

"Chores." Sephiroth muttered, as though he were tasting a foreign language. He sat up slowly and something in Cloud urged him to step back, as though the preteen and his stark shoulder scar posed some threat, just by sitting upright.

"Show me." The young man demanded as he rose slowly out from under the quilt.

Cloud felt inexplicably confused by how short Sephiroth was. Despite the fact that he was still significantly taller than Cloud himself. It was as if he'd expected to keep watch him rising for a few feet more than he actually had…

"You want me to show you my chores?" Cloud asked, trying to quiet the confusion within himself.

"Yes."

"Okay?" Cloud shrugged, turning into the open room behind himself and heading into the kitchen area. "You should eat breakfast first, though."

Sephiroth gave an empty shrug in return. Cloud elected to take the disinterested response as consent, and pulled his stache of sugary cereals out of the cabinet. He wasn't allowed to indulge—it was part of his punishment— but his mother had agreed that Sephiroth could have some.

"Do you like Lucky Charm," he held up the box with its hypnotic, cartoony snake mascot. "Or Cocoa Cactuars?"

"I recognize that you are speaking common, but I do not understand a word you are saying." Sephiroth replied dryly, raising an eyebrow.

By the time they got breakfast sorted out, the sun had reached its apex in the sky, burning away a little of Nibelheim's characteristic chill. Sephiroth had two empty bowls in front of him, still studying them with a bewildered look. He appeared to have liked both cereals, because he'd eaten every bite, but there was still a strange confusion about him, as though he weren't sure what to think of it. Cloud didn't get it. Most kids he knew would kill for two bowls of sugary cereal in the morning.

He shrugged it off. Sephiroth had to still be low on blood after the day before. Surely that was enough to make anyone brain-addled enough to not enjoy a sugary breakfast properly. He tried to take the bowls from the table, but Sephiroth lifted a hand to stall him, his uncanny, inhuman eyes lifting to study Cloud.

The moment they made eye contact, Cloud's stomach twisted in bewildering, incomprehensible fear. His heart stuttered into overtime, pounding inside him with a sick, twisting dread that coiled through his blood. He averted his eyes quickly, shifting away a little too quickly. He swallowed, trying to tamp down on the reaction, scolding himself silently for being silly. Only he wasn't so sure he wasn't being silly. The sharp, wet sound as Sephiroth broke the guard's neck was still fresh in his mind, a clear, ringing memory that he did not know how to avoid.

"Show me where to take them." Sephiroth insisted, seeming unaware of Cloud's intense adverse reaction.

Cloud shrugged in agreement, eagerly taking the opportunity to move away as he gestured vaguely to the sink, wandering over towards it. He heard Sephiroth's chair scrape over the floor behind him, and the clink of his spoon in the ceramic bowl as he followed. It was confusingly domestic in comparison to the memories clamboring inside Cloud's head.

"I have to do the dishes before I take you out to look around, but I wanted to wait for you to eat first."

Technically he wasn't that concerned with the work, but the moment he'd remembered the day before—or was it two days before?—he became suddenly less willing to take Sephiroth anywhere near the unsuspecting populace of Nibelheim. At least not without his mother to back him up. And she wasn't going to be home for a long time. She'd told Cloud she would be staying late to talk to her boss about picking up extra hours in order to compensate for the extra mouth to feed in her household.

The silver-haired young man gestured at Cloud to continue without bothering to say anything. Cloud sighed, casting him a sidelong glance, before demonstrating. He wondered if this was some sort of weird joke, but from the way Sephiroth was watching his every move, he got the feeling that the weirdo really did want to learn how to wash dishes. Cloud pouted to himself, wishing he could have been part of a family that could afford not to wash their own dishes. He thought with quiet longing of Tifa and her entourage.

"I understand." Sephiroth said once Cloud had cleaned two bowls.

He held out his hands expectantly, and Cloud raised an eyebrow at him. Or he tried to—He'd been practicing in the mirror, but he was pretty sure both his eyebrows still lifted together.

"You want to wash the dishes." He asked incredulously.

"This is your punishment, is it not?" Sephiroth's voice was distant—almost scathing. It grated on Cloud's nerves. "I will assist with your 'chores,' since it was assisting me that brought them upon you."

"You talk like a bad fantasy movie." Cloud replied, tilting his head in confusion, even as he moved out of the way. "But hey, if you want to wash the dishes, go for it."

"Fantasy movie…" Sephiroth muttered under his breath in what could have been derision or confusion. It was disturbingly hard to tell.

Cloud settled for ignoring him, moving on to the next item on his list and started scrubbing down their wooden table, making sure that the surface was sparkling clean. His mother had been talking for a while about re-coating it with varnish, and though he wasn't allowed to do it himself, he was responsible for getting it ready.

"Why are you afraid of me?" Sephiroth asked after a moment.

Cloud froze over the table, staring down at his surface. "I'm…" He trailed off.

"Don't say you're not." Sephiroth said blankly. Dishes clanked lightly as he set them aside to dry. "I can tell."

"You killed that man." Cloud whispered, gazing down at his dull reflection in the shining wood surface. "You threatened to kill me."

"You're the one who was going to hand me right back over to doctors." Sephiroth said, as though that were an equivalent infraction.

"You'd been shot."

"I noticed."

Cloud turned to face him, scowling in disapproval. His scowl only deepened when he found Sephiroth still washing dishes, not even bothering to look at him as they bantered. He dropped his rag on the table, crossing his arms in annoyance as Sephiroth carefully inspected the dish he was washing before deciding it wasn't good enough and wetting it to give it another scrub.

"How did you heal it?" Cloud asked sharply after a moment. "Did you have a cure on you? Or a potion?"

"No." Sephiroth cast him a bewildered look over his shoulder. "It just healed."

"Gunshots don't 'just heal.' They send people to the hospital, and sometimes they die anyhow. You read about it all the time."

"Do you?" Sephiroth asked, lifting a single eyebrow. He did it like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Cloud probably would have been envious if it could have edged past his anxiety.

"Well I do." Cloud said, deciding not to mention that it was in the detective novel series he'd been collecting over the past few years and not in the newspaper or nonfiction books. "Why didn't you need medical attention? Are you, like, undead?"

"Well I'm not dead, if that's what you mean." Sephiroth turned back to washing dishes. "And I heal that fast all the time. I'm different from the others."

"Who are the others?" Cloud asked in confusion.

"I don't know." Sephiroth responded with a shrug, setting aside the spotless dish to dry. "Everyone I suppose. I never really asked."

Cloud wanted to ask a thousand more questions, but he held them back, simply watching as Sephiroth washed every dish, most of them twice, until they were spotless and gleaming on the drying rack. Only then did he turn back to cleaning the table, refusing when Sephiroth offered to help. He was relieved when his refusal was accepted without argument, but that relief vanished as Sephiroth stepped back, standing against the wall and watching. Cloud didn't think he'd ever seen someone hold so still. It was as though someone had flicked the 'off' switch and left Sephiroth to wait until he had a task again.

"You can look around the house, you know." He said after a moment.

"I already have." Sephiroth replied.

"There's an upstairs."

"I looked while you were both sleeping."

Cloud's lip curled in mild horror, staring at Sephiroth's blank expression, looking for the joke.

"That's creepy." He commented when the young man remained stoic and unamused.

"It was expedient." Sephiroth shrugged. "And your sofa is too soft."

"The sofa? It's like a rock. I was going to offer to switch and let you have my bed for tonight so you could sleep somewhere soft."

"I think I'll stick with the sofa." Sephiroth said dryly. "If your bed is softer than that, I fear I would sink."

It could have been Cloud's imagination, but he was fairly certain that he saw Sephiroth crack a smile after saying that. He couldn't help but smile in return, despite his unease.

'I did this.' Cloud thought to himself with quiet pride as he watched Sephiroth's gaze slide around the room slowly, as though inspecting it for change.

"Are you to clean everything?" Sephiroth asked after a moment, his face returned to that empty, passive look.

"Well, yeah, I guess." Cloud said with a shrug. "Ma said 'spotless,' so…"

"Spotless?" Sephiroth repeated, his sharp eyes turning back to Cloud with skepticism. "How long is she away?"  
"Until," Cloud paused, confused by the intensity of Sephiroth's look. "This evening? She usually comes home around five or so. Probably closer to six or seven tonight."

"Then we should be working rather than chatting." Sephiroth said briskly. "There is much to be done to have the house spotless."

Cloud glanced around, frowning to himself. "It looks fine." He gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Just a little dusting and ma'll be happy."

"A little dusting?" Sephiroth looked affronted at the very suggestion. "The floor is grimy, the photos on the mantlepiece need a good cleaning, the carpet is filthy, the legs of your chairs are covered in scuff marks, the inside of this sink is dingy, and that is only in the main room."

Cloud stared at him and shook his head slowly. "You're not normal in the head, are you?"

Sephiroth considered, then nodded slowly. "No." He agreed, "I'm probably not. Where do you keep your cleaning supplies?"

Cloud was helplessly swept up in the torrent of activity that followed. Sephiroth had not been joking. He seemed to take Cloud's mother's edict with the utmost seriousness, and Cloud did not dare tell him to calm down. There was something in the way Sephiroth spoke and acted and carried himself that demanded attention and respect. And Cloud was just grateful enough for his help not to argue over it.

Which was why before he knew it he was on his knees scrubbing the floor and Sephiroth was meticulously cleaning every horizontal surface in the house. They'd started out with their roles reversed, but Sephiroth had kept pausing in his scrubbing and putting a hand to his shoulder, pressing against where he'd been shot as though trying to force it back to working as it ought to.

Cloud had volunteered to switch after the third time Sephiroth repeated the motion. The flickers of pain on the other boy's face had driven him to empathy, and he'd realized after he shook it off a third time that he would never mention it aloud, and would probably end up hurting himself. And he was absolutely certain that his mother would never forgive him.

By the time Sephiroth was satisfied, the sun was already low in the sky, and Cloud was too tired and sore to even remember his reservations about taking him outside. But one thing was for certain—Their little house was spotless.

In retrospect, Cloud suspected he should have been less worried about whether Nibelheim was ready for Sephiroth, and more worried about the reverse. As strange as everything had seemed to be to the silver-haired teenager inside their house, once they stepped outside he appeared even more uncertain. If he'd touched the quilt with confused tenderness, he stepped on the grass as though he thought it would pierce through his borrowed shoes and stab into his feet.

Cloud watched him from the drive with a raised eyebrow, glad their grass was as short and measly as it was. It would have been a pity for Sephiroth to refuse to walk over it at all.

"It's just grass." Cloud said, wrinkling his nose. "I know there's not a lot of it in Midgar, but geeze."

"I know." Sephiroth snapped in a frustrated tone.

Cloud lifted his eyebrows as the other boy stalked past him, scowling at his back. There was something strange about the way Sephiroth had said it. It sounded like the belligerent tone of voice Cloud himself had used when the other kids cruelly corrected his knowledge of the stickball game they'd been playing—the tone of voice he used when he hadn't known something, and he hated that he hadn't.

He shrugged to himself, following Sephiroth into the town streets. For a moment, he thought he would lose track of Sephiroth, even with his imposing height and the readily identifiable black hat on his head, hiding his distinctive and unnatural hair. The teen walked very fast. Cloud started jogging to keep up, but soon found that there was no real need. Sephiroth had stopped dead not far away, glancing around the town square uncertainly.

"Don't look so weird about it." Cloud muttered. "I know it's small, but it's not that bad."

Inwardly, he was cringing. It really was that bad, now that he'd seen other places to compare it to. Midgar was such a thriving metropolis, and this place was such a… Cloud struggled mentally for a word backwater enough to describe his hometown.

"There are people everywhere." Sephiroth said blankly, as though the observation was something shocking.

"Not really." Cloud glanced around at the three or four townsfolk still chatting on the streets. "Almost all the young people move away from town as soon as they can. So it's all just old people and kids. I know I'm going to leave town as soon as I can."

Sephiroth looked at him in confusion before turning back to flicking his gaze around the city. He shied back when the stray yellow dog who hung around the square wandered over to say hello. Cloud shot Sephiroth a confused glance, bending down to pet the young dog on the head.

"You don't get out much, do you." He said dryly.

The dog barked happily, as though trying to reply for Sephiroth. The young man studied it from under the low brim of his stolen hat, eyes narrowed at the dog, before he turned away, walking towards the forest.

"Wow, he's a real charmer, huh." Cloud muttered to the mutt, ruffling its ears before following Sephiroth.

The dog barked mildly at his back, but didn't seem inclined to follow.

"Where are you going?"

Sephiroth didn't respond. He walked swiftly and with purpose, but Cloud knew the woods around town better than anyone. Sephiroth was headed straight for a sheer cliff face that marked the beginning of one of the many mountains that surrounded them. He let the silver-haired boy pull ahead, taking his time and meandering through the woods rather than trying to keep pace with him. It was pretty nice, actually, to have a second to breathe out from under that sharp green gaze.

He caught up to find Sephiroth staring up at the slab of stone rising up out of the ground with a fixated expression on his face.

"You don't like dogs?" Cloud guessed after a moment, sauntering up beside him and looking up the mountain as well.

"I don't like people." Sephiroth replied blankly.

"Oh," Cloud stopped in his tracks, dropping his hands to his side from where they'd been hooked relaxedly in his jeans. "Sorry. Let's go home then. I'll stop pestering you."

Sephiroth turned to look at him, giving a slow blink. "You misunderstand. I like you. I do not like people."

"I'm a person too, you know." Cloud muttered, crossing his arms.

"You are different." Sephiroth said, turning back to studying the sky. "I know you."

"Yeah, about that," Cloud said after a moment. "Any idea how that is even remotely possible?"

"None at all." Sephiroth whispered, tilting his chin down and looking at his hands. "But I know you. I have been waiting for you all along."

"Is that why you just melted the wall like it was normal?" Cloud asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I had postulated it would work for some time." Sephiroth said with a small shrug. "It was somewhat exciting to finally test my theory."

"How'd you do it?" Cloud asked in a whisper. "Materia?"

"I don't need it for that." Sephiroth scoffed.

"Can I see?" Cloud asked, glancing behind them at the empty woods before returning his gaze to his...He hesitated to think of him as a friend, and abandoned the line of thought entirely.

Sephiroth looked over at him once more, his gaze assessing and his brows lowered. He slid his eyes from Cloud's face to his feet and back, then turned towards the cliff face.

"Will you run away?" He asked, his voice low.

"No." Cloud replied, his voice firm. "I'll stay."

"Then yes," Sephiroth replied, lifting his hand slowly palm-out towards the rocks. "You may see."

Nothing prepared Cloud for the backlash of heat that followed the words. He lifted his arms to shield his face, but not before he saw the gout of flame burst forth from Sephiroth's hand. There was a concussive blast of sound, then the cracking, crumbling noise of stone crumbing to the ground.

When he finally lowered his elbow from covering his eyes, the stone was glowing molten red. Some of it appeared to have melted at the base, as though Sephiroth had turned the stone to lava. Cloud only remembered to breathe when Sephiroth turned to him with expectant eyes, awaiting a reply.

"That's amazing." Cloud whispered. "Did the people at that place know you could do that?"

"Yes." He said blankly.

"It was pretty dumb of them to keep you in a glass cage, then."

Sephiroth considered, tilting his head. "I always thought it was a show of trust that I would not try to leave."

"What were they doing there?" Cloud asked after a moment. "Why... Why did that guard attack like that? He wasn't trying to protect you."

Sephiroth's face had gone blank at the line of inquiry. He stared at Cloud a long moment, his green eyes piercing, his white hair glinting gold as the late-day sunlight broke through the trees. Then he turned, looking up towards the mountains.

"What's up there?" He asked blankly rather than replying.

Cloud recognized danger in his tone and cleared his throat awkwardly, letting the subject pass as he stepped up beside the teen. "Just the old reactor. No one goes up there anymore."

"Do you know the way?"

"I guess." Cloud shrugged. "It's pretty dangerous, though. Shinra abandoned the place. The old mansion too. That's why the town's so run down. Everyone left with the Shinra."

"Take me there." Sephiroth insisted.

"I don't think so. Did you miss the 'dangerous' part? Plus, my mom will be home soon. And if we're not within eyesight when she gets there, I'll be scrubbing floors and doing dishes till I'm 18."

"Tomorrow then. When it's light."

"Again, seriously, it's dangerous."

"Then I'll protect you."

Cloud stared at the serious look on Sephiroth's face, then shook his head at him with a sigh.

"I'll take you to the mansion to look around." He said after a moment. "You'll like it. No people. But the reactor's hard to get to, and I know you're all healed up, but I'm still exhausted and sore. Rain check."

Sephiroth glanced upwards, then looked back to Cloud with a frown.

"It is not raining." He said firmly.

"Let's just go home. Ma'll be worried if she gets there and we're nowhere to be found."

Sephiroth cast another long look up towards the reactor, then slowly turned back to Cloud and nodded. Cloud looked at him a long moment, watching the play of shadow and light over the impassive face before him.

"Thanks." He said eventually. "For helping with the house. It looks really good."

"You said she wished it to be spotless." Sephiroth replied after a long moment. "I did not want…"

He trailed off, his eyes flickering over Cloud, until they wound up fixed on the dangling ends of cuffs still attached to his wrists. Cloud slid his hands into his pockets in response to the scrutiny.

"I did not want you to be harmed because of me once more." Sephiroth said after a long moment.

"You're the one who got really hurt." Cloud muttered.

"You shouldn't have come so young."

"I couldn't wait any longer."

They locked eyes again, Cloud gazing up at Sephiroth almost shyly this time, thinking of his nightmares, and of the urgency. Sephiroth's eyes looked almost peaceful compared to their usual biting intensity. Then his lips turned slowly upwards into a cautious shadow of a smile. Cloud smiled back, and gave a slow nod.

"Cloud!" Called his mother's voice, distant but clear.

"Ah shit." Cloud muttered to himself, turning away from the shared moment to sprint for home.

Behind him, a pair of footsteps followed in what sounded like a lazy jog. This time Cloud's skin didn't crawl with the other boy at his back.

That night, when his mother was struggling with the bolt cutters she'd pulled out of his father's largely unused shed, he didn't flinch at all when Sephiroth offered a hand. The cutters sheared neatly through the cuffs on his wrists with his mother's fingers guiding their positioning and Sephiroth's strength ensuring that they were nothing but precise.

Cloud put the broken handcuffs on his bedside table, and never threw them out.


	4. Chapter 4

They did not go to the mansion in the morning. Or the day after, or the day after that. But house had never looked better. 

Cloud hadn't asked Sephiroth to help with his chores, but he also hadn't argued. Sephiroth's weird dedication to cleanliness really came in handy. Under Sephiroth's attention, even the dingy old wooden floor started to give off a dull shine. Cloud couldn't remember it ever shining before.

“Don’t you want to do anything other than clean?” Cloud finally asked from where he stood on the table in his socks to clean off the light fixture above it. It had been more than a week, and still Sephiroth showed no interest in more than the cottage. “I mean, you could go do anything.”

“Like what?” Sephiroth glanced up from a stubborn spot on the floor that he’d spent much of the morning scrubbing.

“I dunno.” Cloud looked back to his own work rather than holding eye contact with Sephiroth. “The other kids are always running around town, or doing some work, or at Tifa’s house. They’d probably like you. You’re fancy.”

“Fancy.”

“You know. You look cool.” Cloud shrugged, then winced as the motion made him wobble on the tabletop where he stood. 

He regained his footing, but not before in the blink of an eye Sephiroth was at the table side. He moved quick as a flash, as though he hadn’t been hunkered down in the corner of the kitchen for the past half hour. His eyes were fixed on Cloud, his hands lifted as if to catch him.

“Don’t fall.” Sephiroth scolded, jerking his hands back to his sides with a sharp motion. He looked disappointed to have lifted them in the first place. 

"I’m fine,” Cloud crossed his arms. It wasn’t often he got to glare down at Sephiroth. He frowned at the thought, brows furrowing more in confusion than displeasure. He hadn’t had occasion to glare at Sephiroth much at all. Why did it feel like such a relief to glare at him from above?

“You’re distracted.” Sephiroth rocked back on one heel. “What do you care how I spend my time? You’re the one who brought me here.” 

“You’re the one who…” Cloud started before trailing off. He sighed, shifting his weight, then slid down to sit on the edge of the table. “Why do I know you, Seph.”

“Use my full name.” Sephiroth said, stepping forward and taking Cloud’s arm. He drew him down to stand on the floor with a firm but not unkind touch. “And don’t sit on the table.”

“Why did you come with me?” Cloud was not to be deterred by Sephiroth’s semi-obsessive attitude towards correctness.

“You were a good option.”

“You got shot.”

“Yes, well.”

“Don’t give me that. You could have died!” 

Sephiroth snorted and turned away from him. 

“Don’t climb on anything else until you can focus, Cloud.” 

Cloud clenched his jaw, reaching out to catch Sephiroth by the bicep. He felt the muscle under his hand tense before Sephiroth jerked away from his touch. Sephiroth's hair flashed as he backed away from Cloud, glaring at him.

“Don’t touch me.” He hissed.

“Stop changing the subject.” Cloud snapped in return.

He watched Sephiroth’s eyes narrow, then his jaw clench. Small muscles at the corner of his cheeks tensed, and Cloud couldn’t help the way his eyes snapped to them. There wasn’t a part of Sephiroth that wasn’t anatomically perfect, it seemed. It was almost unfair…

“I don’t know.” Sephiroth snapped finally. “I’m not even completely sure why you came.”

Cloud didn’t have an answer for that either. Not one that made sense in the waking daylight, with Sephiroth before him.

“I had dreams.” He offered, but his voice came out weak.

“Don’t we all.” Sephiroth replied, his reptilian eyes narrowed in warning at Cloud. “What did you mean about the way I look?”

Cloud puffed out a heavy breath of air, looking away. Sephiroth seemed just as unwilling to talk as ever. 

“I mean you could have any friends you wanted in town,” Cloud said in a voice that came out petulant and small. “I don’t understand why you stay inside and help me instead.”

“Friends.” Sephiroth scoffed, rolling his eyes and walking back to the corner he’d been working on. “If you’re so insistent on that, where are yours? Is it just this punishment that has you trapped away from them.” 

Cloud paused halfway to the sink, eyes fixating on the small cross stitch rooster hanging on the wall. He let out a slow breath, forcing himself back into motion. He grabbed a glass, filling it with tap water to buy himself some time.

“I don’t have many friends.” He muttered. “I’m not the sort of person they want to…” He trailed off, then covered with a slow drink of water.

For a moment, the cabin was silent. Then Sephiroth heaved a sigh. He stood up and brushed his hair over one shoulder. It was just long enough to wraps over the side of his neck now and then.

“If you want to go out, you only have to say so.” He declared. “I’ll cover your chores for today.” 

“That’s not what I—” 

“Friends are important to you, aren't they?” Sephiroth’s voice carried a hint of derision, but his expression was unreadable. “Perhaps you should go and preen a bit over your adventure. Try to be impressive for once. If you’d like, you can even pretend you overpowered the guard for yourself.”

 

“You,” Cloud slammed down his glass, a little too hard, but not quite hard enough to break it. He almost wished it had been. “You are insufferable.”

“Then get lost.” Sephiroth growled. “You slow me down.”

“Fine!” Cloud screamed, turning to storm out of the room. “Don’t murder anyone while I’m gone, psycho!” 

He slammed the door behind himself, the scowled out at the world at large. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he drove to Midgar, but constant annoyance wasn't it. And it certainly wasn’t an untouchable, harsh, wicked, dangerous teenager.

“Stupid Sephiroth,” He muttered, giving the door a short, sharp kick behind him. It didn’t make him feel any better. In fact, it made his face flush. Sephiroth would have heard it.

“Stupid, perfect Sephiroth.” Cloud pushed off the door and shoved his hands into his pockets. “He probably would have broken the door, because he’s strong and awesome and cool. What a jerk.”

He trudged to the top of the drive to his house, glancing around the dirt roads of his hometown. He scowled at the world in general. What was he supposed to do? Try to find Tifa and hope that she wasn’t hanging around with anyone yet? There was no way she’d chose his company over one of her other friends.

Cloud sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. He did have a birthday coming up, and he'd meant to ask her if she'd come to his… Well. Calling it a party seemed like an exaggeration. But his mom always made cake… It might still be a couple months away, but…

He nodded to himself, heading towards Tifa's house. He tried to put thoughts of the weird teenager sharing his house out of his head. He didn't understand why he still dreamed of Sephiroth, even now that they were together. Or why the dreams had turned into threatening warnings. Cloud wanted to understand, but any time he asked about the dreams the other boy shut down. Or worse, got angry.

To his surprise, his mom had sided with Sephiroth, her voice low and urging patience.

"He's still getting used to this," She'd said a few days ago, a week after Sephiroth arrived at their home. "Give him time."

Cloud was starting to think no time was long enough. Sephiroth never said anything of any use. He seemed to give more away in his actions than his words.

The way he curled under blankets— the way he ate too fast and cast quick, anxious looks at his mom when she asked if he wanted more— the way he sometimes got stuck in place, as though there was something in front of him no one else could see…

Cloud felt like all the answers were there in his motions and behavior. he just couldn't understand them. And his mom was NO help. If anything, she seemed to be siding with Sephiroth more each day. It was... an unexpected betrayal.

Cloud was so lost in his thoughts he didn't realize he was walking into danger until the chuckling started. Then he jerked his head up from where he'd been staring at the dirt.

"Headed somewhere important?"

Cloud stared up at the bulky shoulders of Mitchell Reynolds, the biggest preteen in town. He'd hit puberty well before the rest of Cloud's classmates, and it appeared to have hit him back. He was Tifa's friend, and one of the most regular members of her pack. But when she wasn't around…

"Mitch," Cloud greeted, shifting where he stood rather than trying to brush past him. He leaned a little to the side, glancing at the shorter boy half-shadowed by Mitchell's bulk. "Dan."

"You planning on bothering Tifa again, Clod?"

Cloud's lips tightened. It wasn't a new insult. But it wasn't exactly wrong either. He didn't bother arguing.

"You're not her bodyguard." He insisted. "She's my friend too."

"I'm pretty sure she doesn't even know whether your name's really Cloud or if we've got it right with Clod." Dan chuckled, leaning against his taller friend.

Cloud didn't argue with that either. But he couldn't stop the way his shoulders drooped a bit. It was likely they were right. But then, when they were kids they'd turned back on the mountain path when Tifa had needed help, and he hadn't. Even if the whole town thought he was the one who'd gotten her in trouble that day. Mitch and Dan sure hadn't been any help with that little misunderstanding.

"Would you just move?" Cloud asked in a mutter.

"What's that?" The other boy asked, cupping his ear. "I couldn't hear you from up here."

Dan snickered. "He's a Cloud, right? Maybe you should give him a lift, Mitch. Put him up in the sky where he’s supposed to be!"

"Just leave me alone." Cloud muttered, feeling his shoulders hunching and hating it. He wanted to stand up to this moron, but he'd gotten punched enough times to know how hard Mitch could hit. And on top of that, his bruises from the Shinra incident had just faded...

The worst part of it—the salt in the wound—was that Mitch was smarter than him too. His grades were top notch. That's why he'd gotten in with Tifa in the first place. Study groups. 

Cloud didn't have time to study most days. He was busy helping his mom look after the house and keep warm in the winter and cool in the summer. He should have made time for it, he guessed, but the longer he stayed in Nibelheim, the less it seemed to matter. He would never be exceptional. Not even here in this tiny fish pool of a town. He wondered if maybe he should have just stayed in Midgar instead of trying to launch a rescue mission.

"Walk away," Mitch ordered, his voice holding an sort of easy power that Cloud at once hated and envied. "Unless you want to earn that last name of yours again."

"It's not your street," Cloud answered, lifting his eyes to glare. "You can't tell me to go anywhere."

Mitch didn't bother arguing the semantics of public ownership of thoroughfares. Even if he had Cloud probably would have lost the argument. He just punched Cloud square in the jaw, and laughed when it sent him sprawling.

Cloud was just starting to pick himself up when the laughter came to an abrupt, startled stop.

Cloud hadn't heard a whisper of movement—hadn't even seen a shadow pass—but someone had joined them. His silver hair was still swaying where he stood with his hand wrapped around Mitchell Reynold's throat, and a snarl on his face. His eyes were glowing. Literally glowing, like fireflies. Cloud's father's coat flicked around his calves, still settling from the speed of his approach.

It took Cloud a moment to comprehend it. For him to understand that yes, Sephiroth was there. He was there with his feet sunk deep in a powerful stance, and his arm extended in front of himself. And he was holding Mitch by the throat, slowly squeezing the life out of him. Cloud watched his green eyes narrow and his hand tighten.

"Don't!" Cloud barked, pushing the rest of the way to his feet. "Sephiroth, don't hurt him!"

"He hit you." Sephiroth replied, his eyes staying fixed on Mitch. He sounded almost calm, despite his obvious fury. Dan had backed away, one step, then two. He was shaking like a leaf, and Cloud didn't blame him. Sephiroth looked terrifying.

"You can't kill him for that!" Cloud objected, pushing forward despite the screaming internal urge to get away from Sephiroth. "Let him go."

"He will not hit you again if he no longer exists." Sephiroth said, shooting Cloud a look that was as much confusion as anything. Mitch clawed at his arm, barely making a red mark as he scrambled against Sephiroth's pale skin.

"I said let him go." Cloud snapped, stepping up beside Sephiroth and gripping his arm as tight as he could. "It's not your fight in the first place."

"You're bleeding." Sephiroth replied, his eyes flicking to Cloud's newly split lip.

"I'll heal." Cloud insisted.

"Hn."

Sephiroth dropped Mitch as though he was so much garbage. The teenager crumpled, gasping for air, trembling on the dirt. Cloud looked down at him in fear, not of him, but for him. He still had Sephiroth's offending arm in hand, but Sephiroth didn't shake him off this time. He just shifted position till he could tilt Cloud's head to the side, inspecting the cut.

"The fool would do well to remember," there was a purr like power threading through Sephiroth's voice, "that strength only works until someone stronger comes along. Let's go, Cloud."

"Is he okay?" Cloud asked, frowning down at Mitchell even as Sephiroth turned to leave.

"I didn't crush anything," Sephiroth replied, even as Mitch gagged and gasped for air. "He's more scared than anything."

"We are going to get in so much trouble," Cloud muttered.

"For what?" Sephiroth replied, arching an eyebrow. "He punched first."

"That won't matter to them," Cloud felt sick to his stomach as he jogged to catch up with his… Friend? Sephiroth had protected him, right? It might have been embarrassing, but…

"Then I'll stop them too." Sephiroth replied, rolling his shoulders.

Cloud shook his head and tightened his grip on Sephiroth's arm while he had the chance. He dragged Sephiroth away from the road and the growing sound of Dan's screaming.

Cloud led Sephiroth into the forest again, breaking into a jog. He kept his mind busy, dodging trees and ducking branches. Thorns in the underbrush tugged at his jeans and jacket. At least once he felt one sink into his hand and tear skin away. But Sephiroth followed, and that was all Cloud wanted. He wanted Sephiroth away from the townspeople who would no doubt be after them now.

He kept moving until he was wheezing and shaking, his legs almost giving out below him. Then Sephiroth slipped out of Cloud's grip, and caught hold of Cloud in return. He led the shaking blond to the base of a big tree with wide roots, and urged him to sit, crouching before him. Cloud clenched his eyes shut, trying to catch his breath.

Sephiroth, for once, was silent. Cloud felt the hold on his forearm trace down, till Sephiroth had Cloud's hand resting on top of his own. Then he winced as he felt a thumb swipe over the place where a thorn had torn him open. He flicked his eyes open, and lost his breath at the sight of the teenager before him.

Sephiroth was frowning in worry, watching Cloud with confused intensity. He looked so… Concerned, Cloud thought. So anxious about the blood on Cloud's hand and face.

"You heal so slowly." Sephiroth whispered, sounding disturbed. His thumb pressed back over the wound in Cloud's hand, and Cloud could feel him shaking a little. "He could have done you real harm. You must be more careful."

"I could have handled it," Cloud objected, his voice sounded small and shaken. He hoped Sephiroth couldn't hear him holding back tears.

"You didn't even have your fists up," Sephiroth objected with a frown. "We must work on your battle capabilities. You are too prone to danger to be… Cloud? Are you in pain?"

Cloud swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on Sephiroth. He could feel his lip trembling and his eyes welling with tears as he looked at Sephiroth's unusually harrowed face. He hadn't looked as shaken when he'd gotten shot as he did now. What had changed?

"We're in a lot of trouble," Cloud whispered. "Mitch is super popular. Everyone in town loves him. They'll want to punish you for hurting him and—"

"Oh, that," Sephiroth gave a half-shrug, lifting his thumb to check on Cloud's bleeding. "I can take the punishment."

"They might make you leave." Cloud whispered, lifting his own shaking hand to catch Sephiroth's. "They might make you go back."

Sephiroth paused, and Cloud saw the way his lips tightened and his eyes flickered with that strange glow. Then Sephiroth pulled his hand from Cloud's grip to wipe the blood off of Cloud's chin.

"They can try." He said.

"You don't even like me," Cloud swallowed back tears. "And now you're in trouble because of me."

"What?" Sephiroth frowned, brows furrowing as he sat back on his heels before Cloud. "I told you before. You are different. I like you."

"All you ever do is scold me, though." Cloud argued. "And bark at me and hide and stuff."

"That doesn't mean I dislike you," Sephiroth said, his eyes tightening at the corners. He drew his blood-stained hand back a touch, curling the fingers at his chest. "Do you dislike me?"

"No," Cloud whispered. "But I like a lot of people who don't care that I exist."

Sephiroth studied him a moment, then gave a low hum of thought.

"I will teach you to punch first next time." He said at last.

"Even if I could I wouldn't." Cloud hunched in on himself. "It would just get me in trouble."

"He was not concerned with that when he hit you." Sephiroth tilted Cloud's chin, barely touching with his fingertips. He still looked strained, and Cloud's guilt sunk in deeper.

"You shouldn't have done that for me," He could feel tears welling in his eyes. "I'm not worth fighting for. You could—"

"I had dreams too." Sephiroth interrupted, eyes fixed on Cloud.

Cloud stopped mid-sentence, frowning a touch in confusion. "What?"

"You asked why I went with you," Sephiroth glanced up before returning his burning gaze to the split in Cloud's lip. He glared as though he could heal it through sheer will. "I had dreams too. Of bright blue eyes, blond hair, and a voice saying 'wait for me.' I waited. You came."

"You dreamed," Cloud whispered. "Of me?"

"The dreams may have exaggerated the shade of blue," Sephiroth admitted with a shrug. "But your hair was unmistakable."

"Was I older?" Cloud asked, feeling numb.

"Yes." Sephiroth replied. "Me too?"

"Always," Cloud agreed, nodding. "And there was always some green liquid, and needles."

"Yes," Sephiroth said, though he did not meet Cloud's eyes. "That is accurate. For you there was always a broadsword and a black uniform. I don't know why yet."

"How is that even possible?" Cloud asked with a strained chuckle.

"I don't know." Sephiroth replied, glancing up at him before sitting back, crossing his legs to sit before Cloud. His head was bowed a little and his shoulders more stooped than usual. "But I'm grateful."

Cloud watched him a moment, then reached out to flick his bangs lightly.

"You're pretty weird," He commented when Sephiroth looked up at him. "But I'm sorry for losing my temper this morning. I know you're still getting used to things. And I'm sorry for getting you in trouble."

"All you did was get punched," Sephiroth said with a shrug. "You may do many things, but you may not take responsibility for my own actions."

"I'm scared," Cloud whispered. "The last time they thought I got someone hurt, it was bad. I don't want that to happen again. Not to you. No one's ever stood up for me like that before. And, I mean, dude. You shouldn't go around killing people, really, but… Thank you."

"I'll try to remember." Sephiroth rolled his eyes to the side as he spoke. "But… You're welcome. You're shaking, Cloud. Are you cold?"

"No." Cloud whispered. "I'm fine, Seph."

"Injured then?"

"Just queasy," Cloud whispered. "Let's stay out here a while, okay? I don't want to see them yet. Maybe if we hide a while it'll all blow over."

"Alright." Sephiroth agreed. Then he pressed a soft finger to the split in Cloud's lip to staunch the bright beads of blood welling there. Cloud let the motion silence him without complaint.

They stayed there together, only moving when it got too uncomfortable to sit on the ground anymore. Cloud walked aimlessly, and Sephiroth trailed along with him. The teenager's eyes were always in motion, aware in ways that Cloud couldn't quite understand. He jumped at sounds that were calming and soothing to Cloud as they wandered through the woods. When they came to the piece of rock Sephiroth had melted for his demonstration, they settled in to wait.

When they spoke, it was quietly, a word or two at a time. Cloud would identify what animal had made a sound. Sometimes Sephiroth would hum in response while he paced out his energy. His legs were still too long for his body. He was going to be as massive as Mitch one day, Cloud could tell. He was already tall, and judging by how much he ate, he was definitely still growing.

The sun was setting when the rhythm broke between them. Cloud had been shredding leaves down to their skeletal structures. Sephiroth had been pacing with all the tense efficiency of a wildcat. Then, between one step and another, Sephiroth stopped, frozen, lifting his head to listen.

"Lillian is calling." Sephiroth whispered, looking to Cloud. "She sounds worried."

"I'm not sure we should go anywhere." Cloud muttered, curling in on himself where he sat, crumbling the leaf he was holding to dust. "Maybe we should just stay out here over night."

"I think that's unwise." Sephiroth's lips turned down just a touch at the corners. "She will be concerned."

Cloud gave a little shrug. "Bet she's more mad than anything."

"I have never seen Lillian angry with you." Sephiroth frowned, moving over to Cloud's side. "Do you think she will do you harm?"

"Well, no," Cloud shook his head a little. "But she'll yell, and probably be disappointed and—"

"You did nothing wrong." Sephiroth insisted, holding a hand down to Cloud. "She has no reason. I will be sure she knows what happened."

"I'm just supposed to ignore it." Cloud curled up tighter instead of taking Sephiroth's hand. "She can't take on any more than she already has on her plate. I don't want to get her in trouble. I'm just supposed to ignore..."

"Cloud." Sephiroth said, firm and strong. "She sounds like you do right now. Like she is trying not to cry. We need to go."

"I'm not crying!" Cloud objected, scowling at Sephiroth. Then his words sunk in and he tucked his head. 

Finally, when Sephiroth's gaze twitched towards town again, reacting to Lillian's voice, Cloud gripped his hand and hauled himself to his feet.

"Can you find her?" He asked in a mutter. "It's getting dark." And cold, he thought, but he wasn't sure if it was the cold or his anxiety that was making him shake now.

"This way," Sephiroth kept hold of Cloud's hand, turning to lead him through the forest.

Cloud let himself be led, and tried to decide what to do about all of this. Soon, he could hear Lillian's calls of his name and Sephiroth's too. He paused, withdrawing his hand from Sephiroth's. He waited till he had Sephiroth's attention once more.

"What's wrong?" Sephiroth asked with a little frown on his face.

"Are we friends?" Cloud kept his eyes on the ground as he asked

"I assume so," Sephiroth said with a shrug. "I have told you twice that I enjoy your company though I dislike the company of most others. I have protected you from harm to the best of my ability. And I have been helping with your 'punishment.' Does that not indicate friendship?"

"It does," Cloud said. "But it's just… You're…"

"Psycho?" Sephiroth volunteered, a strain of bitterness in his voice.

"I didn't mean that," Cloud ducked his chin. "I was just mad. I don't understand you, that's all. You're so quiet. You never want to talk about how you feel or what you're thinking."

"You do not what to know what I am thinking," Sephiroth replied, shaking his head a little. His hair flickered silver. "And I am not a talkative person. Is it not enough that I show you favor?"

Cloud's lips twitched at the weird turn of phrase, but he did not laugh at Sephiroth. Not this time.

"No," He said after a moment. "It's enough. I'm glad. That we're friends, I mean. I like you too, when you're not being a total jerk."

"Eighty seven percent of the time, then." Sephiroth said with a half shrug and what almost looked like a fond, teasing smile. "Not bad odds."

"Not bad at all," Cloud agreed, moving forward again to walk beside Sephiroth on the last leg of the trip home.

Lillian broke into a sprint the moment she saw them, wrapping Cloud in a tight hug before he could so much as say hello. When she stepped back, she gave a tisking sound, cupping his cheek to check his bruise.

"Cloud," She said, her scolding tone already starting up. "What were you—"

"It was my fault, Lillian," Sephiroth broke in, taking a half-step towards their huddle. He froze when Lillian went stiff and tightened her hold on her son. "I… Overreacted to a perceived threat. Cloud didn't do anything wrong."

Cloud looked over at him in surprise, and felt worry crease his face at Sephiroth's body language. His head was bowed, and he'd drawn back away from them. He stood like he was trying to make himself smaller, his arms wrapped around his middle. Cloud watched his hand curl in the borrowed coat.

"You hurt that boy badly." Lillian told Sephiroth, her hands still protective on Cloud's face and shoulder.

"Cloud told me not to kill him." Sephiroth said after a moment. "I… Should have known better. I apologize. I… Panicked. It wasn't Cloud's fault."

"He was just trying to protect me," Cloud spoke up, lifting his eyes to his mother. "Mitch hit first so please don't send him away, mom! You can't let them send him away, or—"

"No one's going anywhere for now." Lillian interrupted, holding a hand up. "I don't know what you've been getting worked up over, but while you were panicking I was calming everyone down. Though I admit it took some quick thinking. From now on, if anyone asks, you are officially Cloud's distant relative, Sephiroth. I went with second-cousin. And you're coming from an abusive family situation, alright? They've agreed to give you the benefit of the doubt, this one time. Based on your history."

"Cousins?" Cloud asked, wrinkling his nose. He didn't know exactly why the idea repulsed him so much.

"Unless you'd like the town to know that you took it upon yourself to liberate a Shinra…"

She trailed off before finishing her sentence, glancing to Sephiroth.

"Asset would be accurate." He said, taking her silence for request of clarification.

“None the less,” She said, though her eyes were on Sephiroth with a strange expression on her face. “So far as the town is concerned, distant cousins, abusive family. Got it?”

“Yes, Lillian.” Sephiroth said, ducking his head.

“Yeah ma,” Cloud agreed with a little nod. “They aren’t going to get him in trouble?”

“No charges filed. Not this time, at least.” She said with a sigh. “I can’t guarantee anything about how Mitchell will treat you two, though. Sephiroth, from now on, I don’t want to hear a word about you lifting a hand against anyone. Got it?”

“Is that to be my punishment?” Sephiroth tilted his head.

“If you want to think of it that way, that’s fine with me,” Lillian sighed. “But it’s for your own good as much as anyone’s. If it had gone much farther, there wouldn’t have been anything I could do.”

“I am sorry.” Sephiroth said. “It was not my intent to cause trouble.” 

For a moment, Cloud watched his mother’s face tighten and felt her hands go tense on him. Then she softened and moved away from his side. She approached Sephiroth as though she were calming a wolf. When he held still for her, she reached out to brush his bangs out of his face.

“You were protecting my son.” She said after a moment. “Even if you went about it badly, I can’t be too angry at you. Just use more restraint, alright? I’m counting on you.” 

“I won’t let you down again,” Sephiroth's eyes lifted to Lillian though his chin stayed tucked. He let her touch his hair, but shied away when she shifted to lay her hand on his cheek. She let her hand fall to her side rather than pressing him. 

“Alright,” She said, nodding and looking between them. “Then let’s go home. You two are definitely grounded, and I need to rest before tomorrow. I’m afraid I’ll be working a little more. To help cover the medical bills.”

Sephiroth flinched. He looked like he’d have rather his mom had punished him violently than pushed herself. 

“If I can help—” He started to offer, but Lillian was already shaking her head. 

“It’s a mother’s place to take care of her children’s mistakes,” She said with a firm nod. “I’m assured you’ve learned your lesson, so let me take care of this. Besides, you’ve done a more than professional job cleaning my house. Don’t even pretend Cloud did all that by himself, I know you two have been working together.” 

“Sorry ma,” Cloud murmured, trailing after her like a duckling as she headed for home. 

“Don’t be,” she called back, sounding pleased. “It’s good to see you two as friends. You seem…” She trailed off for a moment, and ended with a quiet hum. 

Sephiroth fell into pace beside Cloud, his head still lowered. He looked a little hunted, but calmer than he had been when he stepped up to claim responsibility. 

“You seem right together,” Lillian finished finally as she led her stray children home. “A perfectly mismatched pair, if you catch my meaning.” 

Sephiroth glanced over at Cloud with his reptile eyes, and their gazes locked. There was something in his look that assured Cloud his mom wasn’t the only one feeling that connection. He stepped a little closer to Sephiroth as they walked, and allowed himself a small smile.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Long time coming. Hope some of y'all are still here to enjoy it! Thank you for reading, as always, and please consider letting me know your thoughts? Y'all keep me goin'.

Chapter Five

"I dislike this." Sephiroth said, kicking at a dark rock that lay in the path before him.

"Join the club," Cloud muttered through his panting, glancing back at the path behind them. "But I do think we lost them at least."

"Running away," Sephiroth scoffed, scowling. "They should run from me. In fact, if we stayed, I believe they would harm themselves attempting to attack me."

"You know we have to." Cloud sighed, drawing even with Sephiroth on the mountainous path.

"Yes." Sephiroth said. "I will not go against Lillian's wishes."

"You'll just complain loudly about it." Cloud glanced over at him with a snicker.

Sephiroth averted his eyes, lifting his chin a touch in pridefulness. But he snuck a glance towards Cloud, and his lips twitched a little.

"Well." He said after a while more of walking through the dark, craggy rocks. "I did want to take a look at the reactor."

Such a cat, Cloud thought to himself, thinking of the cats he'd seen fall off window sills, then groom themselves as if they'd meant to.

"Might as well, I guess." Cloud said with a shrug. "They'll get tired of waiting for us at the path eventually. I was thinking we'd just hide out in one of the caves up there…"

He glanced upwards towards one of the intimidating spires. He thought he saw something glistening on the cliff ledge above, but turned away from it with a sigh.

"I want to see the reactor." Sephiroth repeated. "There's something interesting about it. Shinra doesn't often abandon property, you know."

Cloud glanced at Sephiroth again, and licked his teeth, thinking about the number of times Sephiroth had called himself an 'asset.'

"I used to imagine why they left," Cloud said after they'd walked in awkward silence a bit. He winced when the words pulled at the scab still gracing his lip from the ill-fated encounter with Mitch. "That it was haunted, like the mansion. Or some monsters moved in, and the mako mutated them and they got too strong. Or that the mako crystallized. I read a book once that said that could happen. That that's what materia was originally…"

"Well, that much is correct." Sephiroth said. "Though I doubt your first two theories are plausible. Mako does not enhance beings in its pure form. It devours them. I've never heard of the mako in a reactor crystallizing… It would have to have been held stagnant for some time for that to be the case. But it is plausible."

"Know it all." Cloud accused. "Bet you there will still be monsters, even if they aren't mako enhanced."

"You'd better hope not." Sephiroth replied, dry as sand. "You have not exactly taken to self-defense like a bird to flying."

"Plenty of birds fall out of trees when they're learning." Cloud muttered, scuffing his feet.

"Most of them get eaten."

"Good thing you're here then." Cloud shot his friend a look, but Sephiroth was studiously observing the spiky mountain peaks around them.

"Who said I'd help?"

"Jerk," Cloud huffed under his breath, shoving his hands in his pockets as they approached the old wooden bridge.

He hesitated in the path. It wasn't that many years ago he'd followed Tifa here. Not that long ago she'd almost died tumbling off the broken bridge and he'd carried the blame. He was glad that she was alright, but…

He remembered the fear of falling. The terrifying tumble into the deep canyon. The brief shriek that had escaped Tifa. _The death grip he had on his weapon, desperate not to lose it in the fall. The certainty that Tifa would be safe, that the others had her, he just had to worry about—_

He shook off the memory, frowning a little. That wasn't quite…

"You've shaken your head at least four times." Sephiroth purred, far too close to his ear.

Cloud jumped half a foot in the air and backpedaled away from Sephiroth. He glared at his friend, and received only a wicked grin in return.

"The bridge isn't safe." Cloud snapped, scowling at Sephiroth and waving a general hand back towards town. "We should head back. They've probably given up on us anyway."

"I want to see the reactor." Sephiroth argued. He had a peculiar way of arguing, Cloud thought. Usually people came up with new reasons to believe them. Sephiroth just restated his desire. Cloud watched his bright eyes lift to the mountain before them, tracing over it with a look like hunger.

"It's really not a good idea." Cloud muttered. "Look, the bridge is waving all around in the wind and everything. There's a storm blowing in and…"

"I understand." Sephiroth said. "You're afraid. It makes sense. You're awfully fragile, after all. Head on back, Cloud. I'm more than capable of exploring alone."

"I'm not afraid!" Cloud snapped, drawing up to his full height—still a solid foot lower than Sephiroth. "I'm being sensible!"

"You sound like your mother." Sephiroth said.

Cloud felt he ought to be insulted, but Sephiroth said it almost like a compliment. He settled for not saying anything rather than trying to stammer a thanks or an objection.

"Come on." He snapped after a moment of staring down Sephiroth. "You wanna see the reactor, I'll show you. It's just a bridge, right? You'd better catch me if we fall."

"And what do you expect me to do, fly?" Sephiroth muttered, but he followed behind Cloud gamely.

It was one thing to say he'd do it. It was another to take the first step onto the swaying planks. Cloud gripped the rough rope tightly in both hands and swallowed hard. He didn't even know who kept rebuilding this old thing. No one ever went to the reactor.

"Need a push?" Sephiroth murmured.

"Don't you dare." Cloud snapped, stiffening.

The smile Sephiroth gave him made him look younger. Which was to say, it made him look his age. The scowl Sephiroth usually wore left him looking far older than his thirteen years.

He took the first step, and then the second. His stomach lurched at the moving surface under his feet. This was a LOT worse than a car. He clung to the rope handles with all his might, his palms scraping over the rope as he forced step after step. He glanced behind himself, and found that Sephiroth wasn't even bothering to hold on. Damn him. What a jerk…

Cloud found it easier to forge ahead thinking about what a jerk Sephiroth was. It gave him something else to focus on.

They were almost halfway across when Sephiroth's creaking footsteps behind Cloud stopped.

"Cloud?" Sephiroth said, his voice almost lost in the ever-increasing wind.

"Yeah?"

"I need you to hold very still."

Cloud froze, his grip white-knuckled tight. He looked back to find Sephiroth reaching out to grip the rope as well, an uneasy look on his face.

"What is it?" Cloud called.

"Fraying." Sephiroth whispered, the word almost lost in the wind. The bridge lurched dangerously under their feet. Cloud bit back a retch. "I can't tell which direction…"

Cloud felt the first rope snap in the tension under his feet. He let out a yelp of fear, but that was all he had time for before he was plummeting, the bridge capsizing, tearing away from itself. He lost his grip on the rope, and for a split second he thought he was a gonner. Then a tight grip caught his wrist.

Cloud screamed when Sephiroth's grip on his wrist halted his descent. He felt his shoulder wrench, pop, and then it was only agony. He howled, pressing his hand against his shoulder.

"It hurts, it hurts! Let go!"

"You'll die." Sephiroth replied, grim and firm.

Cloud looked up at him through teary eyes. Sephirothclinging to the rope still, his expression fixed as his eyes lifted to the lip of the canyon. "You'll need to bear it, I'll have to throw you to land to—"

He was cut off by another shuddering wrench in the bridge. The rope Sephiroth was holding pulled away from the bridge, frayed, and all but disintegrated in his hand.

Cloud didn't scream again as they dropped. He clenched his eyes shut and braced for impact. He gasped in a breath as he felt himself yanked roughly upwards. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, and another cupped the back of his head, holding him firmly in place.

"Legs up!" Sephiroth snapped.

Cloud didn't consider whether to obey or not. It was automatic. He jerked his knees up instants before they hit the ground.

Cloud clenched out a cry between his teeth, but it was drowned out by the sound Sephiroth made. A scream more like a battle call than pain. Cloud had been prepared for pain. He wasn't prepared for how Sephiroth's fingers dug into the back of his skull, keeping his head pressed to Sephiroth's shoulder. Or the way the arm around his waist clenched down like a seatbelt in a car crash. It drove the air right out of him, and he wheezed, dropping to the ground as the grips on him released. Cloud struggled to breathe, blinking tears and dust out of his eyes. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, he was dying, something had broken he was—

His diaphragm righted itself abruptly and he sucked in greedy lungfuls of air. He coughed on the dust around them, looking down in surprise to the drifting clouds from their impact. Then he looked to Sephiroth. The man was sitting, his legs splayed before him, his eyes upwards at the bridge. He was breathing so hard Cloud could see his chest rise and fall in quick bursts of motion.

"It's sabotaged." Sephiroth said, his voice still as flat and calm as ever. "Built to fail. But why?"

"Holy shit." Cloud choked, trying to push himself up. He gasped as he tried to move his right arm. Sephiroth had caught him, kept him from falling to his death, but he'd sure as hell messed something up doing it.

"All in one piece?" Sephiroth asked, his eyes returning to Cloud at the sound.

"My shoulder," Cloud wheezed.

He didn't bother mentioning the band of bruising he could already feel around his waist or the soreness where Sephiroth had held his neck in place. No way was he going to complain about being caught on the way down.

Sephiroth nodded, shifting forward. He froze as he started to move. Froze dead still and held there for a long moment. His breath stalled in his lungs. Cloud realized after a moment from the tension in his neck that he was trying to hold back a scream. His eyes widened and he looked down to Sephiroth's legs.

"Oh gods," He whispered. "You're hurt, aren't you…"

Sephiroth's jaw only clenched in return, and he let out a hiss of breath between his teeth. Thunder rumbled somewhere nearby. The storm was coming.

"Let me see." Cloud said, forcing his stiff, trembling body to move.

"No," Sephiroth growled, but he didn't move. Or more, Cloud suspected, he couldn't move.

"Seph, come on. This is me. I'm not going to hurt you."

"On purpose." Sephiroth muttered, his upper lip curling in a sneer.

"Oh no, you're hurt bad aren't you," Cloud whispered, his good hand curling at his chest. "You're acting like you did after you got shot."

"It's fine. I only need a moment. Go back towards town."

His words were short. Clipped. Direct. Evasive. Cloud could see through his anger now. It had been a long time since Sephiroth had been outright angry with him. And now that he knew him, he could see it for the cover it was.

"I'm not leaving you out here." Cloud said. "There are monsters. Dragons. You'd be in danger."

"No choice. I'll be able to defend myself. If you can get Lillian—"

"You're coming with me."

"I can't walk, Cloud." Sephiroth barked.

"So it is your legs. Are they broken?"

"I don't know." Sephiroth growled.

"They hurt, though?"

"They're not functional."

"You got hurt helping me. I'm not leaving you here."

"You told me we shouldn't go on the bridge. I ignored you."

"You caught me before I fell." Cloud snapped.

"I dislocated your shoulder." Sephiroth muttered.

"Look, who saved who from Shinra?" Cloud jumped to the end of their usual back and forth, trying to cross his arms and wincing at the failure.

"Without an escape plan." Sephiroth added, under his breath. His lips trembled at the corners, as if he almost wanted to smile.

"If I can carry you, can you hold onto my back?" Cloud averted the conversation, casting it aside. Unimportant.

Sephiroth stared at him. He shook his head a little, his brows furrowing.

"Your shoulder."

"So it'll hurt," Cloud said, trying to catch his breath. He glanced around, certain at any moment the Nibelwolf ambush would charge in. "Not like you're not hurting."

"I dislocated it." Sephiroth said. "You'd pass out from the pain."

"Try me."

"So we can both be incapacitated? No thank you."

"Then you figure something out! I'm not leaving you behind out here. It's about to start raining. This canyon might even flood, if it's a big storm! I'm not leaving you here alone."

"You're so dramatic." Sephiroth sighed, even as he forced himself to sit forward. A soft sound of agony broke through his clenched teeth.

Cloud hesitated, staring at his friend. Sephiroth's face was drawn, his whole body tense. He was trying not to stare too intensely at his legs, but he could tell that one of Sephiroth's knees was bending wrong. It made his stomach churn almost as much as the bridge. The agony in his shoulder seemed quieter somehow, beneath the thunder of his heart and the rush of blood in his ears.

"You're not staying." He said firmly, grabbing Sephiroth's wrist with his good hand.

Sephiroth grimaced, yanking back and curling in on himself. It was the most pain Cloud had ever seen him show. His lips parted and pulled down, his teeth clenched, his brows twisted. Or maybe it was more fear than pain…

"I know it hurts." Cloud said, dropping to his knees by his friend, bracing one hand on Sephiroth's shoulder.

Sephiroth slapped his hand off roughly, but Cloud didn't back away.

"I know you're in pain, and you're freaked out, and that I'm not strong like you. But I'm strong enough, Sephiroth. We have to try. You have to let me try."

"Or what." Sephiroth snarled, eyes finding Cloud's. They were angry, and harsh, but they couldn't hold it. Cloud held eye contact with him while Sephiroth's rage faltered, softened, failed…

"I'll heal." He insisted, a little whine in his voice, his hands clenching together over his broken legs.

"At home." Cloud insisted, trying his best to look as strong as he could. Gods, his shoulder hurt. It dangled at his side, useless, and burned with every little motion. But to leave Sephiroth behind…? He couldn't have. He set his jaw, and steeled his resolve. He wasn't going to.

"I'm heavy," Sephiroth hedged, his eyes darting away from Cloud, looking anywhere but at his eyes.

"I'm stubborn." Cloud replied. "And stronger than I look. I can do it. I just need you to hold on and keep your legs off the ground. Do you think you can?"

"Of course." Sephiroth snapped. "I just don't think—"

"Then come on." Cloud interrupted, turning his back and crouching by Sephiroth. "If you hook your arm over my good shoulder, you'll be able to hold on without putting too much weight on my bad side, right? We can make this work."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I'd be dead on the ground if not for you."

"You'd be safe off the bridge if not for me."

"Are you going to argue all day?" Cloud snapped, turning to look at Sephiroth. "Or are you going to let me help you?"

Sephiroth's chin was tilted down, his eyes averted. If Cloud watched closely, he could see a minute shiver working its way through him.

"Don't you trust me?" Cloud asked, his voice soft and small.

Sephiroth lifted his eyes, and Cloud saw his answer. There was such fear in those green eyes. And he realized now that it wasn't from the Nibelwolves, or the storm, or the fall. Sephiroth was hurt. Cloud was too close. He dropped his hand from waiting to support Sephiroth, and slowly turned back to him, sitting heavy on the stone. Sephiroth's eyes stayed fixed on him, confused and afraid.

"Ma will worry." Cloud said in a soft voice.

"That's why you should go home." Sephiroth shook his head, silver hair swaying, confusion in his eyes.

"She'll be worried about you." Cloud clarified. "And I will too. I can't walk away, Sephiroth. If you can't let me help you, that's… That's alright. But I'm not leaving you here."

"I could make you." Sephiroth said, his eyes flaring greener. "I could hurt you till you ran crying back home."

"But you wouldn't." Cloud said, lifting his hand to hover over his throbbing shoulder. "You wouldn't."

Sephiroth was still as stone for a moment. Then his expression crumbled into a look of confused misery.

"I don't want you to get hurt anymore."

"I don't want you to get hurt either." Cloud agreed, scooting closer, reaching again for Sephiroth.

This time his friend permitted the touch on his arm. And then lifted his own arm to wrap around Cloud's back, till they were half-hugging each other. Cloud felt his heart skip a beat. He had never been permitted so close to Sephiroth. Not like this. His hair was soft on his cheek. He smelled salty, like sweat, but somehow acid too. When he closed his eyes and pressed his face against Cloud's good shoulder, Cloud could feel his eyelashes brush over his neck.

"I'm sorry."

It was barely a whisper. Cloud wished he had both hands, to hug Sephiroth more tightly. His shoulder radiated pain at the very thought, and he tried to push it aside.

"It's okay." Cloud breathed. "We can stay, if that's better. We can stay and wait. Ma will come. She'll come."

"Dangerous." Sephiroth breathed into Cloud's shoulder.

"That's what I've been saying," Cloud sighed. He leaned his head against Sephiroth's, staring up at the distant, dangling bridge.

"Not that."

Cloud wrapped his arm around Sephiroth's shoulders a little tighter. He winced when Sephiroth shifted more into his grip and gasped at the pain it caused his legs.

"Then what?"

"This." Sephiroth's voice had gone rough and pained. "You."

Cloud frowned in confusion, hugging Sephiroth a little tighter. Him? Dangerous? To Sephiroth? The guy had nearly broken a man's neck with one hand. Cloud was not the dangerous one here. But…

He thought of the glass cage. He thought of the nightmares. He thought of the fear in Sephiroth's eyes, and a guard with a gun.

"Okay." He said softly, not understanding, and certain he never would. Not really. But that wasn't what mattered. Sephiroth had seen things, done things, felt things that he never would. He was afraid now, and Cloud was his friend. His only friend.

Cloud was starting to shake. His arm hurt like he'd never hurt before. He glanced to the swirling storm clouds above them and squeezed Sephiroth a little closer.

"We've got to go now if we're going." He said. He wouldn't be able to see his way if it got a lot darker, and the clouds would kill the dim evening light even faster. "It's up to you, Sephiroth. I'll stay with you either way."

The stones were so hard and cold under them. Cloud gave a hard shiver, and grimaced as it jolted his shoulder. He felt tears prick at his eyes, and forced them back. He wouldn't let himself crumble. Not if there was still a chance…

Sephiroth took a shaking breath.

"Okay."

Cloud closed his eyes tightly, squeezing his friend as close and as tight as he could. In response, Sephiroth's arms tightened just a touch, and he pressed his face against Cloud's shirt.

"We can do this." Cloud said, as much to himself as to Sephiroth. "Just hold onto me, and I'll get us there. I promise."

Sephiroth didn't answer. But he pulled back from Cloud and shifted. His face was pale and tense, but he didn't make a sound as he moved close enough to hook his arm over Cloud's good shoulder. His other arm snaked around Cloud's waist. His fingers twined together, holding over Cloud's chest like a backpack.

Cloud's useless arm screamed in pain as Sephiroth had to move it to hold on. Cloud choked back the sound of pain and tried to gather himself. He heard Sephiroth stifle a similar sound as he dragged his legs closer to position. And it was definitely dragging. He clung to Cloud, using his anchor against him to move his mangled legs.

Cloud swallowed hard, and forced his own legs under himself. He was glad he'd been working on his strength and endurance with Sephiroth, even if only a little. A few weeks ago, he might not have been able to stand up with Sephiroth's weight on his back. Now he managed it, though only just.

He tried not to hear the way Sephiroth clenched back a scream. He started walking before he could stop himself. Before the agony could catch up with him. Sephiroth managed to hold on—Managed to get his thighs to tighten over Cloud's hips, though from his strained breathing in Cloud's ear, it was costing him to do so. Cloud wasn't much better off. He was gasping for air by the fifth step. He almost wished he'd just lost his stupid arm, because every motion he made moved it, and it hurt worse for the motion.

"Talk to me?" He wheezed, eyes fixed on the next step, the next potentially disastrous footfall. He couldn't let himself stumble. He'd never get on his feet again. And gods, it would hurt Sephiroth so badly…

"What?" Sephiroth managed after a long moment.

"Can I do anything to make this better?" Cloud asked, his brows twisting in strain, his free hand going to Sephiroth's thigh, but hovering there, wanting to help hold him up, but not sure he wouldn't do more damage.

"No." Sephiroth said.

Cloud hunched forward under his weight, trying to keep Sephiroth's grip from slipping. Gods but he was heavy…

"Are you going to be okay?"

A scoff. Sephiroth shivered against his back, and let out the rest of his breath before answering.

"Yes. In time."

"How much time?"

"It depends. I think something is misaligned. I have never had to… Someone else always…" He took a shallow breath, and Cloud felt his fingers tighten over his chest. He tried to focus on that. To focus on Sephiroth's words and reactions instead of his own pounding heartbeat and agonizing pain.

"We'll get you to a doctor." Cloud promised.

"Please no." Sephiroth gasped. "It will heal given time. I always heal."

"What is with you and doctors?" Cloud asked, his brow furrowing. He was sweating through his clothes, and the muggy pre-rain atmosphere wasn't helping. Salt stung at his eyes, and he blinked free tears, trying to keep them clear enough to see where he was going. "You threatened to kill me if I took you to a hospital before."

Sephiroth was silent on his back. Cloud didn't have the energy to dance around his questions, and he was unable to walk away. So he just blazed forward, his mouth as stubborn as his shaking legs.

"What happened to you? Why do you act like this? What are you so afraid of?"

"Cloud…"

"I know, you don't want to tell me, and all of that." He let out a shaking breath, licking his dry lips and tasting salt. "But please…"

Sephiroth's breaths were slow and hot against Cloud's shoulder, where he'd pressed his face. His fingers tightened around Cloud. The flash of pain from Cloud's injured shoulder jolted him to a stop for a moment. His vision went white, and he gasped in slow breaths. He felt Sephiroth's hold loosen, heard him apologize through the ringing in his ears. He took a sharp step forward before he could lose his nerve or his strength.

"You don't have to do this." Sephiroth murmured.

The first drops of rain fell around them, starting to spot the grey rocks darker shades. Cloud felt the first piercing few drizzles of freezing water on his head, and welcomed them. Maybe it would numb his arm a little.

"It's not too far." Cloud answered through clenched teeth, gripping Sephiroth's wrist with his good hand, holding it tightly in place over his chest. Don't you dare let go, he thought. Don't you dare let go.

He didn't let himself think about the reality of the distance. Didn't stop to think about the hills he'd have to scramble up in order to get back to town. Thunder rumbled, ominous and diffuse. Not a clapping boom, but a low growl from the sky. The rain caught up to them, pouring down over their backs.

"This is—"

"Stupid, dangerous, 'inadvisable,' whatever." Cloud's words were breathless. He almost slipped on a newly-slick stone and stepped quickly to recover. He was sweating, even in the cold and the rain. His good hand stayed clenched on Sephiroth's wrist, holding onto him with all he had.

"I know all of that," Cloud continued when he had his breath back.

"But you'll do it anyway," Sephiroth murmured into his shoulder, sounding exhausted. He was shaking—trembling on Cloud's back. He didn't know if it was fear or agony.

"Yeah." Cloud insisted.

For a while Sephiroth was silent. His arms tightened around Cloud, not quite just holding on, and not quite hugging. Something indefinable in the center.

"Do you ever hate me in your dreams?" Sephiroth said, his words careful.

_Green eyes stared at him, derisive, piercing, and Cloud didn't know why but they spoke of blood and fire, and he wanted to run, but he had to keep fighting he had to—_

Cloud almost stumbled again, more out of surprise than exhaustion this time. But the exhaustion didn't help.

"What?" He asked, trying to regain himself.

"You asked me to talk. Do you hate me in your dreams?"

Cloud took a couple more steps. The uneven rocks were at least large enough slabs at this point in the hike that they weren't trying to trip him at every step. But the soaking rain had made even the most stable rocks dangerous. Cloud blinked the rain out of his eyes, keeping his head down and his eyes on the ground.

"Yeah?" He said after a moment. "Kind of? I don't know they're… Wait, do you hate me in yours?"

"Not hate," Sephiroth said, each word carefully chosen. "But something like it. I don't know why."

"Me neither," Cloud whispered raggedly. "But I don't hate you now."

"It would have been better if Mitch tried to beat us up, huh." Sephiroth's voice was small. Exhausted.

"Maybe," Cloud agreed, clinging to the wet fabric of Sephiroth's sleeve, feeling wet strands of silver plastering to his shoulder where Sephiroth's head rested. "Notes for next time, right?"

Sephiroth's laugh was a frail, small thing. It was a pressure of lips curving against Cloud's wet shirt, and a the heat of a puff of breath through the rain, and the ever so subtle scrape of teeth as he chuckled against the wet fabric.

They didn't talk anymore. And it wasn't until Sephiroth's grip started to slip that Cloud realized he was out. He gripped his wrist tighter, hunching over, bent almost in half trying to keep Sephiroth on his back.

He didn't have the energy to waste being upset or worried. The rain was only getting worse, and they needed to get out of the valley. He staggered on, muscles burning, fighting to keep every inch of Sephiroth's heavy, lanky form safely balanced on his back.

It wasn't until he was on his knees in the mud, miles further on, trying to force himself to stand up again, that he realized Sephiroth had never answered his question about doctors.

* * *

 

Cloud was nothing if not honest and stubborn. He'd said he would get them back home, and he did.

He didn't know how. He knew that all he could taste was dirt and blood. He knew he'd fallen. Knew he'd hurt Sephiroth dropping him and having to pick him back up. Knew his friend was hurt worse than he'd let on, because he'd only screamed, and not woken up.

Everything was grey and numb and cold, and he didn't think it was the rain anymore. His shoulder was beyond hurting. It was constant, unending agony.

So he didn't think anyone could blame him for collapsing in relief when he saw his house. And he didn't think even the mayor would be mad this time, like he had been when Cloud had carried Tifa back to town.

He wasn't awake long enough to find out. He didn't even have the strength to drop Sephiroth gently. He just collapsed with his friend on top of him, still clinging to his arm.

All he had as he heard a familiar voice call out his name was a brief flash of pride, and the most fleeting thought of 'I told you so.'

* * *

 

"I think I bring you bad luck." Sephiroth said, hooking the sling over Cloud's neck and adjusting his injured arm in it with care.

"Nah," Cloud said, waving his good hand. "I'm always trouble. If anything, I'm bad luck for you. You've passed out twice while I've been looking after you. That can't be good odds."

"I will grant you that it is unusual," Sephiroth said, almost playfully. "How does that feel?"

"Plenty secure," Cloud said. "How's your, what was it, fractured everything?"

"Pelvis, ankle and shin on left, simply a mangled joint on the right."

"'Simply a mangled joint.'" Cloud mocked, wobbling his head back and forth and doing his best imitation of Sephiroth's voice.

Sephiroth looked distinctly unimpressed.

"How does it feel?" Cloud clarified.

"Not good." Sephiroth said dryly. "Better than yesterday."

Cloud was trying not to think about yesterday. Yesterday had been his mother in tears again. It had been waking up in more pain than he'd ever been in. It had been screaming when the doctor set his shoulder, and having to see Sephiroth bolt into the doorway at the sound of his pain only to crash to his knees, looking more defeated and more desperate than Cloud had ever seen him.

Cloud was definitely, definitely trying to forget yesterday.

"I'd sure as hell hope so," He muttered. "Mom leave any water or painkillers nearby?"

"Of course," Sephiroth said, arching an eyebrow.

"Are they on your side of the bed?" Cloud asked, leaning back against the headboard.

Sephiroth grunted beside him, shifting to lean against the headboard too. He passed Cloud a glass of water before picking up the small pill bottle and shaking a few into his palm.

"You sure you're alright staying up here with me?" Cloud asked him, even as he tried to juggle both water and pills before Sephiroth huffed, pressed the pills into his hand, and took the water away. "I mean, you—"

"Don't talk with pills in your mouth," Sephiroth instructed.

Cloud swallowed them down with a few quick gulps of water, then passed the glass back.

"You don't like touching," Cloud clarified. "It's not that big a bed."

Sephiroth was silent a moment, holding the water glass. He swirled it slowly, an automatic motion that he seemed to indulge in a lot when he was holding a glass.

"Your mother couldn't carry me back downstairs after my foolish attempts to assist you yesterday," He said. "And it was not good for her to sleep on the sofa while I took her bed."

"I can walk," Cloud said. "I can go sleep on the sofa."

He didn't know why Sephiroth seemed to stiffen at the offer. Why his expression closed off and went hard.

"No," He said. "It's… Okay if it's you. You won't hurt me."

"I dropped you like five times on the way home." Cloud said flatly. "That definitely hurt."

"Hm." Sephiroth said, setting aside the water and leaning back on the headboard, not looking inclined to move anywhere. "What do you know. For once it's you overthinking the details."

Cloud was silent a moment then felt a grin creep across his lips as he looked over at his friend's distant expression.

"You want to stay."

"Yes." Sephiroth confirmed after a moment. "I want to stay."

So he did. And though Cloud once kicked Sephiroth's broken leg, and though Sephiroth once nodded off and slumped over onto Cloud's injured shoulder, neither of them held it against each other.

Eventually Cloud fell asleep, halfway pillowed on Sephiroth. He wasn't sure, but he thought Sephiroth let out a sigh of relief. And he was pretty sure he felt him lean his head down into the pillow of Cloud's hair and relax there.

The two of them stayed predominantly on bedrest for the good part of two weeks. Sephiroth read, often aloud, and Cloud passed the hours chatting with him idly. He didn't press for information again, and Sephiroth didn't offer. Lillian brought them breakfast, left them sandwiches for lunch, and made dinner every night, even with her busy schedule. Cloud swore up and down he would never skip washing the dishes for his mom again.

Sephiroth even started letting her touch him. She always said she was taking his temperature, but from the way her hand lingered and the way Sephiroth's eyes closed, Cloud thought it was probably just that she thought he needed a little extra mothering. And whatever had changed between them, it had changed Sephiroth and his mother too. Sephiroth would never seek out her touch, but he never pulled away anymore.

Sephiroth recovered first, of course. He was up and about within a week, regaining his mobility, pushing himself just a little too far and too hard. As always. But it was good to see him standing again. Cloud wasn't about to be left behind. He followed behind him, helping as best he could with one hand and the lingering traces of an awful cough.

He tried not to look outside at the changing leaves and the storm clouds rolling in. Summer was almost over already. He had no doubt Sephiroth would do great at school, but it seemed so odd, thinking of him there. He'd have to get better at sprinting, so he could keep up with Sephiroth when they had to run from Mitch after class. He'd have to work harder at studying too, if he wanted to stay even close to on Sephiroth's level. Still, he avoided making plans. Might as well enjoy the summer while he had it.

It never came up.

Their summer ended in one awful moment. Cloud came downstairs to help Sephiroth with the morning chores. He found him standing in the open doorway. The morning light was golden on his face, but it did nothing to change how bloodless he looked. Like when he'd been shot but worse. Even from where he stood, Cloud could see the working of his throat as he swallowed.

Before him stood a man in a black suit and a red tie. When the man turned to walk away, Cloud could only stare in confusion as Sephiroth followed.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Hey mom,

 

It’s weird to be writing you a letter. I don’t think I’ve ever actually written to anyone before, and it still feels so weird to be away from home. I hope you’re doing okay, I know the house must feel too empty. You could always try throwing some dirty clothes on the floor to pretend like I’m still  ~~ at home ~~ there, right?  
  
  
Guess I should actually give you an update since I’m writing. Shinra’s been weird, but not as bad as I thought, I guess.  ~~ At least not so far. ~~ Most of the people are more interested in ignoring me than beating me up, at least, and I’m not as bad at the training as I thought I’d be. People here are still weirdly bad at figuring out how old I am though.  
  


If anyone’s recognized me they haven’t said anything, so that’s a plus. I was worried there would be posters all over the place with my face, you know? But I’ve seen a bunch of those Turks, and they’ve just walked right by me. I think maybe the trooper outfit makes me invisible. Or maybe it’s just a special talent of mine to be pretty unremarkable, since no one noticed me last time either.

 

I saw him yesterday. Just for a second, from a pretty long ways away.  ~~ He’s as handsome ~~ He looks good. Just like in the magazines. Super healthy and wearing that coat you hate. I thought he saw me, but he didn’t seem to notice. And I was in lineup, so I couldn’t exactly wave, you know? Fingers crossed I’m not invisible to him too.

 

I think I’m going to have to get to a higher rank to have a chance of getting close to him. You’d never imagine he’s only a few years older than me. I was talking to some of the guys and they say troopers only ever see Sephiroth when there’s a formal address from the company going on. But they also said now and then some  ~~ unlucky ~~ lucky folks get sent on missions with him, so hopefully I’ll be able to talk to him before I make the Soldier program.

 

I’m worried ma. I also asked the others if they’d ever seen him happy, and they said no. And then there’s that news about that other Soldier Genesis going missing? I wonder if they were friends.

 

Someone invited me to join his fanclub, but it seemed really intrusive. He never liked people knowing too much about him. It feels like it’d be a betrayal, you know? But if I can’t talk to him in a few weeks I might reconsider. Some information is better than none, right?

 

Lights are going out in three and I’ve got to get to sleep. Don’t worry about me, okay? So far my knee’s held up fine. No one’s even noticed that it’s messed up. I’m not the fastest in the troop, but I’m not the slowest either, by a long shot.

 

I’ll keep you up to date if I find out anything else

 

**Sor** **r** y ma, lig **ht** **s w** ent out.  Lov **e you!**

 

**Cloud**

 

* * *

 

 

Four years ago, Cloud spat blood as he shoved himself up out of the dirt again. The dust clung to his bleeding nose, but he didn’t let himself hesitate.

 

“Where are you going?” He asked again, his voice more ragged, more angry than it had been the first time he asked.

 

Sephiroth’s answer was silence. A dead, flat look that refused to change. The man in the black suit was still walking away, slow and calm. He had not spared a single look at Cloud.  
  
  
Cloud forced himself to his feet, stepping forward to grab Sephiroth’s arm. He held on as tight as he could, but only for a fraction of a second. Then the arm under his hold was moving, as unstoppable as a landslide, to backhand him. Cloud hit the dirt again, blood in his mouth, his whole face stinging with the sudden pain.  
  
  
The boots in front of him turned away, grinding against the loose soil, and Sephrioth started walking again.

 

Cloud’s fist clenched in the dirt. He pushed upwards, his arms shaking—his whole body shaking. Blood dripped from his mouth and nose, but he was still alive. Still conscious. So he knew for certain that Sephrioth was holding back. He’d seen what he did to Mitch. What he did to the guard.  
  
  
“Don’t do this,” Cloud gasped, struggling to his feet. The world spun, the ground dipping unsteadily under him. “Sephi—”  
  
  
He never finished the name. Sephiroth was before him in a moment, his eyes blazing green  _ And Cloud’s hand reached for a blade that wasn’t there, terror pounding through him, not again, not again— _

 

Sephiroth’s foot came down like a sledgehammer against Cloud’s knee. Something snapped.

 

Cloud howled in agony, dropping back to the ground, clutching his shattered joint. The pain made his vision fuzz, made the ringing in his ears double. He clung to his thigh, just above his broken knee. He couldn’t hear anything but his own screaming, his own gasping breaths, the rushing, pounding heartbeat in his ears, the sudden crunch of dirt as Sephiroth turned away—   
  
  
“No!” Cloud gasped, reaching blindly for Sephiroth, grabbing his ankle only to be kicked roughly away. The cruel boot crushed Cloud’s fingers under its heel to follow the motion. And even as Cloud screamed again, Sephiroth said nothing. Only kept walking.  
  
  
He’s afraid, Cloud through to himself, sick and certain. He’s going back. They’re going to hurt him.  
  
  
His right leg was ruined. His left hand shattered. He still had the others.  
  
  
Cloud Strife pushed himself upright, hardly able to see through the tears and dizziness. He choked back a sob, trying to catch his breath, to find a way to hobble forward. His wrecked leg wouldn’t hold him, but he’d crawl if he had to. He gave an awkward half-hop forward after Sephiroth. And finally, finally, the other boy stopped. Paused where he was with his back to Cloud and his silver hair swaying in the cool morning light.  
  
  
Between one heavy blink and another, he was in front of Cloud, his green eyes blazing with intensity. His hand wrapped around Cloud’s throat. Cloud choked in a breath, gripping Sephiroth’s wrist tightly in one hand, and reaching for his shoulder with the other--his hand swollen and bruised and broken and reaching. Even as Sephiroth’s fingers started squeezing, Cloud wasn’t sure if he was trying to fight him off or hold onto him.  
  
  
“Don’t follow me,” Sephiroth whispered, his lips barely moving, his voice almost lost in the pounding filling Cloud’s ears. “Don’t ever come for me again. They will kill you. Do you understand? They will kill you.”  
  
  
Cloud tried to speak. Tried to object. But though his lips moved, he could get no more than a wheezing moan past them. He felt Sephiroth’s bruising fingertips on his throat, felt the coiling desperation in his body, his brain, as his breath stalled and faltered under the constriction of Sephiroth’s hand. Blood from his split lip and broken nose poured over the pale flesh of the hand around his throat.

 

The look on Sephiroth’s face didn’t change. Confident. Powerful. Intense. If Cloud hadn’t known better, hadn’t heard his whispered plea, he’d have thought Sephiroth was enjoying the display of force. He tried to grip him tighter. Tried to anchor himself against unconsciousness and agony. Tried to tell Sephiroth without the words the other boy was stealing from him.

 

But in no time at all his hands were beyond his control, limp and falling. Then he was limp and falling too. He only barely felt the heavy impact against the packed earth of the road.

 

Then the world was darkness for a long, long time.

 

When he finally woke up, it was to a clean white room and the small, broken sound of his mother crying. Everything hurt. Every inch of him. Bruised and bloodied and broken. The very first moment he could think, tears were leaking out of his eyes, stinging the split and swollen skin from Sephiroth’s vicious backhand.

 

“Mama,” he’d whispered, ragged and miserable. “Mama, I couldn’t help him…”

 

In all his days of living, Cloud Strife would never forget the sound that his words twisted out of his mother. He would never forget the feeling of her bowing over his body, her hands in his hair, as if she were trying far, far too late to guard him from harm.

 

* * *

 

Hey ma,

 

Sorry I haven’t written yet this month! Things got a little crazy around here. Another one of the Soldier Firsts went missing and the whole company’s been like a flaming wolf den. Well, missing isn’t really the word?  ~~ I guess he had some copies and ~~

 

Anyway, things have been weird, and I’m sorry I’m writing you late. I don’t have any new news on Sephiroth, I still haven’t seen him except at a distance. I’ve heard a lot of rumors, but I don’t believe most of them. I worry though. He seems lonely.

 

Speaking of loneliness, I did make a friend on a mission the other day! Another guy from a backwater town. He’s a First, though, so it’s not like I’ll get to see him around much. Said he was from somewhere called Gongaga? I looked it up, and it seems like we’d have a lot in common in terms of hometowns. Little place with a reactor and not much else. Sound familiar?  
  
  
Anyhow, he was really nice. We had a great chat while we walked.  ~~ To be honest I was glad the helicopter ~~

 

I didn’t ask him about Sephiroth, because I’m still trying my best not to be weird about it. But I think they know each other. I’ve seen them together at least. I’m kind of hoping that if I can hang out with Zack, eventually Sephiroth will see me.  
  
  
Only I’m pretty sure he has seen me ma. In fact I’m sure he has. But he never looks twice, or makes eye contact, or anything. I’ve been here for months now, and it’s not like I’ve been secretive. I think he’s mad at me for coming. But he had to know I’d come, right? I mean, he knew me a whole summer. You’d think that’d be enough to get the idea.  
  
  
Anyhow, training’s still going well! Knee gave out on me a little while ago, but they just accepted that it was an old mountain climbing injury. I have new exercises to help strengthen the support muscles to compensate for ~~the~~ ~~ damage he did ~~ torn ligaments.

 

I’m sorry to hear work’s been rough on you, ma. I’m sealing a little of my pay in with the letter. Don’t fuss at me, okay? The company pays for food and stuff, and you know I’ve never been much for shopping.  ~~ I know it’s because I got hurt that you ~~  I’m  ~~ the one who brought Sephiroth home so ~~ doing  ~~ my best to make it right ~~ just fine, so don’t worry, okay? I’ll send a little home from now on when I can write.

 

~~ Please let me do this for you. ~~

 

Love you and miss you. I’m looking forward to coming home to visit soon. Maybe this time I’ll be able to bring some friends from Shinra without kidnapping anyone!  
  
  
Cloud

 

* * *

 

Sephiroth need not have given Cloud the dire warning. The beating he’d gotten was enough to leave Cloud immobile for weeks. Cracked ribs, broken jaw, a shattered knee, and a heaping of deep-tissue bruising had left him looking and feeling like he’d survived a car crash.  
  
  
The neck brace hid the hand-shaped bruises, so that was the story that he and his mother had gone with in the end as to what had happened to him.  
  
  
Not that anyone had asked.

 

His mom was there for him while he was stuck in the hospital, as much as she could be. And when she was gone, she brought him books. Cloud found it hard to read with one hand of broken fingers. But worse than that, every book he looked at dug the hole in his heart deeper.   
  
  
Every book brought memories of Sephiroth’s comments on it, or how Cloud had meant for Sephiroth to read it, or what Sephrioth would have thought if only he was there.  
  
  
But there was no one for Cloud to talk to anymore. So he spent most of the first few weeks asleep, until the day he could finally go home.

 

The pain was bad. So was the stress, and the sorrow.

 

The bills were worse.

 

Lillian never talked about the new financial burdens. She didn’t have to. Meals were different after Cloud’s hospital trip. Meat became a treat, for a special occasion. Beans and rice and broths made from scraps to stretch the meals out one more day became the new normal. Cloud knew it had already been hard on his mother, having another mouth to feed with Sephiroth. Now Sephiroth was gone, but he had left a laundry list of debt in the form of Cloud’s medical bills.

 

But whenever his mother brought Sephiroth up, it wasn’t with anger or frustration, but only sorrow. She seemed quieter in the wake of his leaving. Dimmer. And Cloud for the life of him couldn’t figure out what to do to make it right.

 

He dropped out of school and took on part-time work at the local grocer’s. They were older folks, and their kids had left town. Cloud never told them about the injuries that should have kept him from heavy lifting. He moved their stock for them, and brought home what wasn’t fit to sell to share with his mother in their too quiet house.  
  
  
The floors didn’t shine anymore, without Sephiroth there. Things fell into disrepair, and neither of them had the heart or the energy to keep up with the cleaning.  
  
  
It was two years later that they first saw him again.  
  
  
Cloud was stocking the magazine racks at the grocer’s front bar,and froze with an issue of Midgar Weekly in his hand. Because he knew that empty face. Those burning eyes. He did not recognize the pale, perfect expanse of his chest, or the dark leather he wore. He did not recognize the cruel sword in his hand. It didn’t matter.  
  
  
He bought one with his meager wages and took it home to his mother. She cried at the sight of it. It wasn’t in relief.  
  
  
“He’s alive.” Cloud said softly, limping over to stand beside her.

 

“He is.” Said his mother, trying to keep her voice steady as her hands hovered over Sephiroth’s image, not daring touch, as if it would be a breach of trust.

 

“I don’t understand,” Cloud muttered, wrapping his arms around himself. “Why are they talking about him like… Why would he work for them? They were… I know they hurt him.”

 

“More than you know, I think Cloud.” She said, smoothing her hands over the magazine at last, looking like she was torn between burning it and hanging it on the fridge. “I’m not sure he has any choice left but this.”

 

Cloud was silent, looking at his mother, at her tired eyes and her shaking hands, and the tears left to dry on her cheeks.   
  
Then he looked down at the violent image of the person who had been his friend.

 

“Don’t follow me,” Sephiroth’s voice echoed in his head. “They will kill you.”

 

Sephrioth was on a lot of magazines after that. Cloud bought all of them that he could. Met with his mother over their meager dinners to discuss how he seemed. How he looked. To read the short interviews with him as he gained fame through bloodshed.  
  
  
“He’s too young for this,” Cloud’s mother would whisper. “They’ve made him look so old.”

 

And it was true. His jaw was angular, his cheekbones defined, his posture tall, and his muscles deep and powerful beneath the iconic jacket he always sported now. And yet Cloud remembered him still soft-faced and wiry with youth.  
  
  
He supposed a lot could change in two years. He tried not to think about how very much he looked like the dangerous man in his dreams now. The dreams were more rare, but they still spoke to him.  
  
_  
_ _ ‘Try, try, try.’ _

 

“I’ve got to go after him,” He said to his mother one night, looking at the candid photograph on the cover of The Zolom’s Eye.

 

It was a nasty tabloid, and it had captured an image of Sephiroth with a smile. A rare prize for any publication. The problem was the blood on his face. The mad light in his eye. Even in the grainy photograph he looked inhuman.

 

“Not yet.” Lillian had murmured, her voice small and soft. All of her seemed so much smaller than before. “Please. You’re too young.”  
  
  
So Cloud stayed another year.

 

But just like before, eventually he couldn’t stand waiting anymore.

 

* * *

 

Mom,  
  
  
There’s a lot of news, but I don’t have a lot of time to write.  
  
  
First, I’m sorry for not telling you my new friend’s name. You’re right, that was rude of me. It’s Zack, and you are going to love him. He’s really nice, and super funny! I know I just joined to get close to Sephiroth, but  ~~ watching him ~~ Zack makes me feel like maybe I could do good things in Soldier. I really look up to him!  
  
  
But there’s some more important stuff to say right now. I finally saw Sephiroth up close again, mom. He didn’t talk to me, but I know he remembers. I don’t understand why he won’t talk to me, but I think maybe he thinks he can’t? I’m not sure.  
  
  
I was so close, mom. I could have touched him. He’s super tall now, the pictures don’t do it justice. And he just oozes this sort of powerful aloof vibe, and I bet it seems really cool to everyone, but I just keep thinking of him looking like that after coming in from the rain, and you dropping a towel over his head. Remember?  
  


Anyhow, I know he remembers everything, and I know he’s been thinking about it. I think that’s why he picked me for the mission. We’re going to Nibelheim, mom. We’re coming home. He didn’t say anything about it, he didn’t even look at me for more than a second, but I know that’s why I’m coming with him.  
  
~~~~  
I’m a little worried he’s going to try to get me to stay home for good this time. Last time was  
  


Zack and I have talked a little, and I mentioned I was worried about Sephrioth. He seemed surprised, but a little happy? I think they’re friends, or something like it. He said it’s complicated, but that he was sure it’d work out.  
  
  
I don’t know about that, but I know that he’ll be closer than he has been in years, and I’m going to do my best to get him home for dinner. Maybe I can’t get him to open up, or find the right thing to say, but I know you could. I’ll come see you as soon as I can when I get there, okay? We’re going on a mission  ~~ to inspect the reactor ~~ but I’m sure I’ll have some time. And I’m sure he will too.   
  
  
If I have to, I’ll bust him out in the middle of the night to sneak home. It’ll be just like old times!  
  


I love you, and I know we can help him. I hope you’re doing well, and don’t stress too much, okay? You don’t have to do anything fancy, and I’m sure the house looks fine.  
  
  
~~~~ I think he needs  
  


~~~~ You were right about  
  


~~ He seems really ~~

 

I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. I know I will be!   
  
Love you,   
Cloud

 

* * *

 

“You haven’t been to your hometown in quite a while, right?”   
  
  
Sephrioth’s voice was low, deep and intimate. It took Cloud an awkwardly long moment to realize he was talking to him.   
  
  
“Tell me. How does it feel?”   
  
  
You know, Cloud wanted to scream. You know what this place is like, you know what people think of me here.   
  
  
“Sir?” He said aloud, too startled, too worried about having too many prying ears around. Zack was fine, Zack he trusted, but the other troopers, and somehow even Sephiroth himself…

 

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t have one.” Sephiroth added, flat empty.

 

“Really? What about your parents?” Zack asked, too casual, Cloud thought, wincing behind his helmet. Sephiroth hated talking about them, hated—

 

“My mother’s name is Jenova. She died giving birth to me. My father…”   
  
  
He trailed off, his bright uncanny eyes flicking over to Zack, to Cloud, to the other guard. He let out a low, bitter, uncomfortable laugh.

 

“What does it matter.”  
  
  
He stepped forward, striding through the entry gate to the little city without looking back. He only paused once they had fallen in line to follow him.   
  
  
“Ah. That’s right. Once we have secured accommodations you may visit your friends and family.”

 

And that was it.   
  
  


* * *

 

Cloud sat in the hotel room he’d been sharing with Zack. Sat there staring at his trooper helmet and not knowing what to think. Years of effort for one conversation.  
  
  
Sephiroth hadn’t even used his name.   
  
  
‘Visit your friends and family’ indeed. Cloud knew his mother wanted to see him, knew she would listen and maybe help him through this. But he couldn’t face the idea of going without Sephiroth. Of failing her in this. Of not having managed to wrestle that strange, earnest teenager from under the layers of violence and ice.

 

He wondered as he sat in the empty room if he should enlist Zack’s help. Zack seemed to be the closest to Sephiroth these days. Not that they were exactly chummy. Especially not now, after days of Sephiroth refusing to speak to anyone and locking Zack out of the basement.  
  
  
“Maybe we should go keep an eye on him?” Cloud had offered uncertainly. “It’s… Weird, right? Something’s wrong.”  
  
  
“There’s always something wrong.” Zack had replied, his gentle eyes distant and a little sad. “Have you gone to see your mom yet? Have you even taken your helmet off outside yet?”

 

So Cloud had gotten derailed, explaining to Zack that he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. This town wasn’t home to him. It was just a marker of his failure. His failure to be in Soldier, sure. But he couldn’t exactly tell Zack about his failure to bring Sephiroth home to be mothered.

 

That conversation had been four days ago. Two days after Sephiroth had locked himself away. Six total days of nothing and silence. Now Zack was out hunting monsters, passing time, probably flirting with Tifa. Tifa who seemed somehow so wrong to him. He kept expecting her to be different somehow. To be harder, sharper, less girlish and more powerful. He didn’t know why.  
  
  
Every night on the hotel’s bed, Cloud had dreamed of acid eyes and danger.

 

_ ‘Try, try, try’ _

 

“I tried.” Cloud said to the empty room, staring out the window. “I tried.”

 

And then he smelled the smoke.

 

* * *

 

Nibelheim burned.

 

* * *

 

_ She finds him at the train station, and he knows he should know her, maybe he does, but he knows so little. _

 

_ They fight together, and he would deny to anyone that he likes them, but he does, he does, and he doesn’t know why he is so afraid of that. _

 

_ She smells like flowers and the sun that she doesn’t know. _

 

_ He understands suddenly why he was afraid when he watches them die on the stairs. When he watches the plate fall. When he holds on too tight to the two he has left as they escape. They will get Aerith back. _

 

_ The thing inside the Shinra building, the awful headless thing, it jostles something loose and broken inside him, tugs at an infection he has carried unknowing, awakens a memory of fire and acid eyes and betrayal. _

 

_ Someone sets them free. Someone kills the president. Someone is in his head. _

 

_ Sephiroth. _

 

_ They flee. They run. _

 

_ He tells them about Nibelheim in the next town, and Tifa is so strangely quiet. Tifa is so strange. But he knows her now, knows her like he didn’t before, he remembers barely recognizing her, why does he know her now? _

 

_ They fight. They grow. _

 

_ They gain members, and loose hope. He finds the name Sephiroth fixed in his soul, in his mind, on his tongue. Hunts him with an obsession that he doesn’t understand. Finds himself thinking of Sephiroth and home and relief, and reunion and covers it with hate. _

 

_ He remembers his mother’s charred body. _

 

_ Somehow, though he doesn’t even know where he is, they meet him there. Barret and Tifa and Aerith and RedXIII first, and then more of them. Cait Sith and Yuffie and Cid and even Vincent. He writes their names in his heart, and it almost balances him. Almost steadies his hatred, his confusion. _

 

_ And then the black materia. _

 

_ And Sephiroth is… _

 

_ Sephiroth is… _

 

_ ‘Hello my puppet.’ _

 

_ And then she is gone, gone, gone, gone, gone, gone gonegonegonegonegonegonegone _

 

_ They still trust him _   
_ (they shouldn’t) _

 

_ They press on _

_ (he wants to give up) _

 

_ The snow is so cold _

_ (put on some warmer clothes, you’ll freeze out there-what about you?-I don’t even feel it) _

 

_ And Sephiroth—  _

 

_ Sephiroth is... _

 

_ BeautifulTerribleWonderfulEverywhereInsidemeDeadNoStillAliveHurt(he needs me)((TryTryTryTryTryTry))andHojoiswatchingand _

 

_ Please give me a number _

 

_ And _

 

_ Nothing. _

 

_ Tifa finds him. Finds more of him than he thought he had left. They walk through Nibelheim together, walk through the flames. Unwrap truth from lies from Sephrioth from Cloud. And Cloud is certain he has forgotten more than he remembers. (He has forgotten so much.) _

 

_ But he remembers Zack. _

 

_ They press on. They have been pressing on without him. He is glad. Proud. _

 

_ He is not alone. _

 

_ There are so many moving parts. The weapons, the shinra, the civilians, his friends, his past. _

 

_ He dreams of Sephiroth, and they feel strange and familiar. But he no longer trusts that familiarity. No longer digs for explanations of memories he shouldn’t have, or strange thoughts of caring or concern that blindside him for no reason. _

 

_ He erases Sephiroth from every part of himself he can reach. Tears down the disjointed memories as if they were curtains. Pulls himself free from the tar of Jenova’s influence. _   
  
_ And then he kills him. _

 

_ There’s a moment right at the end _

 

(‘I’m taking you home’ ‘why?’)

 

_ They meet eyes before the blade hits home _

 

(A hand grabs a throat, he is in the eye of the storm, they run together)

 

_ And Sephiroth is _

 

(‘Are we friends?’)

 

_ So familiar _

 

(‘Don’t follow me’)

 

_ Cloud cuts him in half. _

 

* * *

 

He'll never stop, Cloud thought the fifth time Sephiroth resurrected. The fifth time his friends held off disaster at the corners, pushed past the breaking point. The fifth time he met acid eyes that are all wrong now, as blanched and dead and empty as the smile.

 

“What are you even fighting for?” He asked, voice raised over the wind of the terrible storm that accompanied Sephiroth.

 

But Sephiroth didn’t answer. He hadn’t spoken to Cloud since he arrived this time, as if even that has been bleached from him.

 

Cloud didn’t have time to wonder. Didn’t have time to care. The ground split open, yawning beneath them as if the planet itself was crying. Cloud staggered, looking back frantically. The ground cracked all around them, the planet’s lifeblood breaking free in screaming streaks of green.   
  
“Barret! Tifa!” Cloud bellowed, half-turning away from Sephrioth to return to the others, to warn them, to help them.   
  
He sensed him too close. He didn’t turn in time to block the strike. Only to return it.   
  
His sword sank into flesh that parted as though already rotten. Sephiroth smiled down at him, empty, his hand still clenched on the hilt of Masamune, his body sliced nearly in half. He didn’t even seem to notice.

 

Cloud choked, eyes flicking down to the sword in his chest. Again, damn it, again, a new twin to the pale scar that haunted him.

 

Cloud’s bad knee gave out. A wound so old he didn’t know how he’d gotten it. Joint damage before the mako.

 

He grabbed Sephiroth by the lapel of that damn jacket, snarling up into his face. He wasn’t falling alone.   
  
Around them, the lifestream burst into the sky, the planet crumbling. Somewhere not too far away, Chaos howled.   
  
Inches away from Cloud, impaled on his sword and impaling him in return, Sephiroth met his eyes.

 

Deja vu hit hard. As hard as the vertigo and harder. Cloud closed his eyes tight, jerking at the sudden feeling, but finding Sephiroth’s free hand gripping him in return, locking them together as they tumbled into the burning heat of the planet’s core.

 

And the world fell apart around Sephiroth’s hollow laughter.

 

* * *

 

Cloud opened his eyes as he had countless times before. Opened them to empty space and silence. He stood there a long while, aware he wasn’t alone, and not wanting to see. Processing a new lifetime of memories. Some good, some awful, some new, some old. There were always variations.    
  
He took a slow breath, remembering awkward conversations, and silver hair shoved under a dark cap, and the taste of blood.   
  
He turned around slowly to meet Sephiroth’s acid stare. Met it head on without flinching. He would never, ever flinch from Sephiroth. Not knowing what he knew.   
  
Sephiroth was staring at him with a fixed, stony expression. And Cloud hated him in that moment. Hated him more than he could express.   
  
I never even told mom I couldn’t help him, he thought bitterly, feeling his fists clench at his sides. I never even warned her. Did he even look at her when he killed her? Did she even know who had set the fire?   
  
“Well,” Sephiroth said after a moment into the emptiness, breaking into Cloud’s grief. “That was different.”

 

Cloud couldn’t help himself. It didn’t matter that they were dead. That they’d done this before and would do it again. That they’d been almost-friends one distant summer.   
  
He went for Sephiroth’s throat.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((There's been some confusion, so just to clarify... This isn't the last chapter at all? So, like, hold on y'all))


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